


son of rage and love

by AmazingGraceless



Series: The Children of Conquerors [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, F/M, Kamlin and Reza are united in awful parents, LWABOC, Landscapes With a Blur of Conquerors, Royalty AU, Sequel, hapan!rey, hopeless fountain kingdom, jacen is a moody bitch, so clearly jacen seeks girls who also have daddy issues like he does
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:22:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 37,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmazingGraceless/pseuds/AmazingGraceless
Summary: One year ago, his best friend and first love went missing one night after dreams of a past once lost to her. Now a Jedi Knight, Jacen Djo drifts through the black of space looking for her during his patrols and missions when he answers a distress signal in the Valley of the Sith. There, he finds a gang of tomb-raiders armed with an artifact thought to be in safe hands and a girl known as the Angel of the Dunes. Sensing a connection between the girl he lost and the Angel, he seeks her out in hopes of finding Reza, and in the process discovers a greater threat at the edge of the galaxy.A fan sequel to Landscapes With a Blur of Conquerors and to Hopeless Fountain Kingdom.
Relationships: Allana Solo/OC, Jacen Solo/OC, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, jacen Solo/Original Female Character
Series: The Children of Conquerors [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944340
Comments: 72
Kudos: 8





	1. The Valley of the Sith

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [landscape with a blur of conquerors](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11442951) by [diasterisms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/diasterisms/pseuds/diasterisms). 



If Jacen Solo Djo was certain of anything anymore, it was that there was nothing good about venturing to the surface of Korriban. While members of the Corellian Archaeological Society liked to claim that there was a lot of insight on the history of the galaxy that could be found there, Jacen wasn’t sure it was worth it, given how often the Jedi were called over here to deal with the tomb-raiders.

He kicked his boots on the dashboard of the Hapan Battle Dragon. The _Thunder Wraith_ had been a gift for his official coming-of-age earlier that year, and as a sort of Knighting gift from his parents. While Jacen had been eyeing a Z-95 Headhunter as a personal transport, he had to admit that he could get used to having his own Battle Dragon, similar to his older sister’s.

The cockpit of the _Thunder Wraith_ was quiet. Only the beeps and whirring of the machinery and the faint static of the comms system broke the silence and emptiness of space. If he weren’t on patrol, he would at least play some holo-records to block out the silence of the black. But he needed to stay at least somewhat alert.

The Valley of the Sith stood out, even from the atmosphere of Korriban, marring the barren red-gold desert that was so different from the desert worlds of Tatooine and Jakku, where his family hailed from. He was sure that it was a deliberate choice. The Sith might have mostly faded away except for the occasional cult and fanatic, but evidence of their reign remained, like a scar on the galaxy’s memory. And these monuments, visible from the atmosphere, were meant to remind and intimidate.

It was almost silly, to Jacen. To spend so much time on this material world, like they thought they would last forever. . . But they never did. They consumed themselves, through ambition and greed and betrayal, always. It did not matter the immortality they believed they had achieved. It was all rendered meaningless.

Jacen bit his lip, forcing himself to smile somewhat. He had unfortunately taken after his old man in being a cynic and a philosopher, which was rarely an agreeable combination. The act of a smile felt foreign to him, for he had smiled so rarely in the last year.

He remembered the last time he had visited this Goddess-forsaken planet, when he was thirteen. It had been five years ago, almost. Time went by so much more quickly once he had joined the Jedi. He suspected that the Valley would look the same, as very little ever changed on that barren rock. Jacen would be the one who was different.

He had left this place behind, as much as you could leave any mission or training exercise behind. But she had never quite left the Valley, even if she never came back to this place.

Before he could muse on what he had lost for much longer, his comms system crackled to life.

_“This is Archangel to Stormbreaker, do you copy?”_

Jacen grabbed the commlink out of a pocket in the lining of his leather jacket. “This is Stormbreaker, Archangel, I read you.”

_“They’ve come—the tomb-raiders, they ambushed us in Marka Ragnos’s tomb, please hurry—“_

“I read you, Archangel—I’m coming in.”

With that, Jacen clicked off his comm and threw foreword the joystick as he started up the _Thunder Wraith_. It was time to come in with guns blazing.

* * *

“I don’t like this place,” Jacen declared as they entered the valley from the side of some Sith palace they had used as a landing dock.

“I don’t either.” There was a faint smile on Luke’s face, an expression of amusement toward his teenage nephew’s bluntness. “But we got reports from the archaeology team here, there’s been sightings of a smuggler’s ship in the valley and they didn’t check in with any of the authorities, so we need to check it out.”

“They were Hapan pirates, weren’t they?” Jacen tried to remember what he had read on the report while they had been sailing through hyperspace.

Luke nodded as he removed viewfinders from a pouch hanging off of his belt. “That’s the strange part about it. The Hapans still tend to avoid places like this, places full of the Force. Even cultural deviants like the pirates.”

Jacen considered it, taking in the look of the Valley. Filled with sand, deep pits, and crumbling temples, it was a jungle of dark energy and the ghosts of pure evil. Just being here made his skin crawl. He wondered if there was still any sithspawn here. There hadn’t been any recorded instances since the era of the High Republic, but then again sithspawn were known for popping up when one least expected it.

However something caught his attention— he blinked, and found himself tugging on the sleeve of Luke’s loose robes.

“Look, there’s a girl there—she might be hurt!”

“We’d better get down there,” Luke said grimly, placing his viewfinder back in the pouch. “I don’t know how long she’s been out here—and what shape she was in when they dropped her off.”

“You think the pirate were body-dumping?” Jacen asked as they hurried down a ramp. “But why would they leave her here, and not out in the black?”

“I don’t know,” Luke admitted. “But we shouldn’t count our banthas before we see the stable.”

“Is that the expression from Tatooine?” Jacen mused. “I always heard that it was the fambaas—“

“Perhaps we can talk about regional differences in idioms once we’re back in hyperspace,” Luke interrupted gently as they hit the lifeless sands. They hurried over to where a girl lay facedown on the sand, not moving except for the rise and fall of her chest.

“She’s alive,” Jacen realized, taking a canteen of water from his hip. He knelt down by the girl’s shoulder, and gently turned her over. She wasn’t injured or hurt in the slightest.But something was off about her presence in the Force, although Jacen couldn’t put his finger on what made her so different.

He then placed his palm on her neck and sent a light jolt of energy to her through the Force. She jerked awake. Her limbs twitched and her eyes flew open. She gasped for breath as she pulled herself into an upright sitting position, letting out a small cry.

“Are you okay?” Jacen asked, offering her his canteen. “You should be safe now.”

She blinked a few times, visibly calming. She looked from him to Luke, then back to Jacen, fixating on him with those big brown eyes.

“Who are you?” She raised a hand to her temple.

“My name is Luke Skywalker, I lead the Jedi Order.” Luke sounded grandfatherly and pleasantly paternal. “This is my nephew and apprentice, Jacen.”

“The Jedi?’She blinked again. “That sounds familiar. . . But I don’t know why..”

“What’s your name?” Jacen asked.

“I—“ She inhaled sharply. “I don’t know. . . Wait. . . “

She closed her eyes, and Jacen could feel the Force rippling around her. A flicking glance to Luke confirmed it.

“Reza.” She sounded unsure. “That’s all I know.”

Her eyes flew open again, her expression panicked. “I don’t remember anything.”

“We can help you,” Jacen promised. “I’ll help you.”

* * *

It was a promise he intended to keep, even now as he crept through an alley between tombs. He kept a tight grip on the hilt of his lightsaber where it rested, clipped to his belt and bouncing off of his hip. Moving quietly, he hoped that maybe he could get the jump on these tomb-raiders. Not that they’d be much of a challenge to him.

He could spot them, coming out of the temple of Marka Ragnos, just as the site leader had reported. Archaeologists, students and professionals alike, ran from the tomb, some ducking behind pieces of ruined stone and debris to fire at the raiders.

Drawing on the Force, Jacen leapt from the valley floor and flipped, igniting his leaf-green lightsaber. When he landed, he swiped at a raider effortlessly,cutting through the charcoal-colored fabric that covered the raider from head to toe, and even severing the black metal of the quarterstaff that all of the raiders wielded.

Jacen spun his saber, building up momentum as the eerie round goggles of the masked raiders all turned to him. Indeed, now he had gotten a better look at the raiders and was surprised at what he saw.

They wore once-black dented armor that had been worn a dark gray, streaked with sand and wear,with strips of charcoal gray fabric that was wispy and light covering heir shoulders, heads, and looping around their belts and equipment in a way that reminded Jacen of the holos of his mother in her Resistance days. There was an opening for their eyes, but even that was obscured by the round black goggles they wore.

It was a uniform, and it was one that clearly had some significance beyond practicality, as lighter colors would have been better. Indeed, Jacen could detect the faint lines of some insignia on the shoulder pads, similar to how Mandalorians would display the crest of their houses.

But Jacen couldn’t really focus on the insignias, because then every raider pressed a button hidden on the shafts of their quarter-staffs, allowing short red beams of light to emit out of both ends.

 _Kriff_.

He skidded back as the first approached, winding his saber up as he searched for an opening. The raider spun his staff in a protective circle, the ends reminiscent of a circle of fire in the blur of how fast it moved.

Jacen could feel the unprotected side of the temple walkway beneath his heel—the raider was trying to back him off the ledge. Which left only one option— to fight.

Moving with short, fierce strokes, Jacen cut through the center of the quarterstaff and plunged the end of his lightsaber into the raider’s exposed chest before he had a chance to react. The raider crumpled to the ground, the ends of the quarter-staff flickering and dying before they bounced off of the sides of the temple.

Jacen raised his lightsaber, winding and spinning again as he stepped over the corpse of the tomb-raider and swung to block the end of the quarter-staff. He gritted his teeth, digging the heel of his boot into the coating of sand that covered the ancient stone, burying it with purely time.

With a shrug of his left shoulder, he flung the quarter-staff out of the raider’s hands, and the long metal hilt clocked him in the face as it flew out of his grasp, circling around Jacen so he could grab it with one hand. He then thrust the end of the pike through the raiderand drew upon the Force again to flip and jump right into the middle of the remaining four raiders.

He spun the quarter-staff in his right hand, trying to make a shield of fire of sorts as he swung with his left hand at two of the raiders, who immediately made their attacks at him.

He grazed one’s armor, leaving burn marks, and the other stepped back, instead jabbing with the end of her lightsaber pike, searing his abdomen and cutting through his tunic and jacket. Jacen flinched back, just as one of the raiders jammed the end of the pike through the shield and intercepting the end of Jacen’s quarter-staff. He gritted his teeth, sparks flying in his face, and blocked with his lightsaber the other two raiders, who locked their quarter-staffs with his blade.

That was when the fourth threw his quarter-staff, letting it fly and spin. Jacen ducked, and the force of him dropping to the ground loosened his grip on his lightsaber. It skidded to the edge of the temple walkway, far from Jacen’s grip. At the same time, the quarter-staff came back, cutting through the one Jacen held, rendering it useless as he rose back up.

 _Kriff_.

He reached out a hand to summon his lightsaber to his hand, but he had his legs kicked out from under him.

He tried to draw his blaster from his hip, only to be greeted with a sharp kick to the ribs, and another to the head. It was strong enough that black spots littered his vision, like a reverse of the Hapan night sky.

He faintly heard the sound of the pikes moving in—and he reached out, trying to get that saber.

“No.”

More raiders came out from inside of the temple, one wielding a scepter Jacen recognized all too well.

“How—“ he rasped.

The faceless raider said nothing, raising the scepter of Marka Ragnos. “Let’s see what this does to a Skywalker.”

The sound of two lightsabers igniting came from behind him. In a blur, Jacen watched as the figure of a young woman leapt at the raiders, cutting through the, as easily as if they were battle droids, making short work of him in a few short strokes and leaps before landing to the ground so quietly, one might have wondered if she were there at all.

The ones who came from the inside of the tomb— they ran, before the woman could leap at them, abandoning whatever they had come for.

Jacen’s vision was growing blurrier—he couldn’t feel his fingertips anymore, and his head and ribs throbbed. Still, he managed to look up, starting with the boots of his savior, to a flowing blue dress, the blue gauze of her skirts partially obscuring her face as she looked down at him.

Then he remembered nothing more


	2. Angel of the Dunes

A dirty white sheet rippled over Jacen’s face with the light breeze of the desert evening. He blinked, pain rippling through his ribs and the top of his skull. He groaned as he struggled to sit up, instead opting to prop himself up on his elbows.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t sit up if I were you.”

He turned his head and winced, colors blurring in his vision from moving too quickly. Sitting at a clunky and old-fashioned terminal that was designed as a sort of tank against the sand and dirt was a young man with a badge identifying him as a student at the University of Corellia.

“How did I get here?”

“We found you out by the ruins, and saw the tomb-raiders were gone, so we were able to get you back here, to camp,” he answered, not looking away from his terminal. “You were pretty kriffed-up— I thought Jedi were supposed to be good at fighting.”

“Yeah, I thought so too.” Jacen frowned, trying to remember what had occurred right before he fell unconscious. “I would’ve been able to take them, if they were ordinary tomb-raiders.”

The typing on the terminal stopped. “They weren’t?”

“No.” Jacen closed his eyes, recalling the sight of the lightsaber quarter-staffs. “They were dark Jedi.”

“You mean the Sith.” The student sounded as pretentious as one might have expected.

“No.” Jacen couldn’t help letting irritation slip into his voice. “We don’t know for sure that they’re aligned with Sith doctrine. That’s different than a dark Jedi or a dark Force-sensitive. Those play by their own rules, they don’t follow the structures of the Jedi or the Sith.”

“That sounds convoluted and confusing,” the student decided, his typing resuming. “I thought you guys were supposed to be good at fighting dark-side people too. You know, you were lucky that we found you when we did. You could’ve died out there, in the desert. Dehydration and a head wound aren’t a good combination.”

“I suspected as much,” Jacen grunted through gritted teeth as he finally pulled himself into a sitting position. He peeled off the leather jacket, undoing the fastenings on his tunic so he could better see his ribs and his lightsaber wound. He winced at the sight of the bruises and the burn mark.

He glanced back up at the student. “Please tell the student who saved me ‘thank you.’”

“What are you talking about?” The student looked away from his terminal, confused.

“One of your students, a girl in a blue dress?” Jacen prompted. “She came in with lightsabers, she saved me. I hadn’t known you had a Force-sensitive already among your ranks.”

The student blinked, gray eyes widening as he stopped typing. “No way— you must’ve hit your head harder than I thought.”

“What do you mean? Do you know her?”

The student hesitated. “Everyone knows the story—and while I haven’t seen her, most everyone else has had some encounter or another. I’m surprised she showed up for you, though.”

“What’s her story, then?”

The student bit his lip. “The University doesn’t really like us talking about it, because it was a big tragedy for her family, and a scandal for the higher-ups. But I guess if you’ve seen her. . . “

“Tell me,” Jacen urged. “Please.”

The student sighed, pulling his chair over to Jacen and sitting on it. “This was before I came here, about two years ago, I think? One of the sophomore students in the Archaeology major came to join the dig site for experience and credits, as you do. She was this bright kid, a scholarship girl from some backwater planet nobody’s ever heard of, and she was pretty well-liked by students and teachers.”

“I see.” A cynical part of Jacen wondered if some of this narrative was a retroactive halo applied to this young woman.

“So she came here to Korriban, and she wasn’t doing so hot,” the student continued. “Couldn’t sleep at night, kept saying she heard the tombs calling to her, and stuff. The site leader, she kept trying to convince the girl to go back to Corellia, that she was too stressed and maybe she’d be ready to come back in another semester or two. But she insisted on staying, since she was getting a lot of work done for the site, and her adviser saw no reason for her to transfer back to campus.”

“I suspect I know where this is going.”

“So the story goes that they were excavating in a tomb belonging to some minor Sith Lord from the height of the Sith Empire, Janson Belos? Janton Belos?” The student wrinkled his nose. “Something like that. Doesn’t matter, the guy was a nobody. Point is, she found something with a lot of Force-magic, and it caused an explosion, and the girl was right in the middle of it. Insisted she was fine, though, there wasn’t a scratch on her.”

“She wasn’t fine, though, I take it?”

“No.” The student shook his head. “No one knows what happened that night. But the next morning, she was gone, and her tent was a mess, like she’d gone out in a fight. There weren’t any footprints leading to her tent, though. University held an investigation and everything, but after six months, they dropped the case and declared her dead.”

The student’s gray eyes then darted around the tent, as if looking out for observers, his voice dropping an octave.

“That’s when she started appearing, when the raiders came.”

The student let it sink in a moment. “She would appear, with two lightsabers and she would protect the site. But she never would speak to anyone, and she disappeared after. They say that’s the ghost of the girl who went missing. We call her the Angel of the Dunes.”

“Angel of the Dunes?” Jacen raised an eyebrow. “No kidding. She saved my life.”

“And that of many others here,” the student said. “You were really lucky, then.”

“I guess I was.” Jacen mused over it, for a moment. Then he remembered the scepter they had held. The scepter of Marka Ragnos.

A chill went down his spine. He had not seen the scepter in years, not since he was aboard Crseih Station. The Disciples of Kodank had used it when they gathered energy from around the galaxy to give to Waru, including Allya’s access to her temple on Stalstinek IV. When the Jedi regained custody of the artifacts the Disciples had stolen from them, they had returned the energy and entered the scepter in their archives.

Jacen hadn’t heard anything about the scepter going missing again. A part of him wondered if there was a chance it was not the correct scepter, that he hadn’t recognized it.

But no, he remembered when he was fighting alone against several cultists in the Archives on Stalstinek IV, and again when he and Reza were threatened with it while being held hostage by Thaum Rystra on Crseih. He would have recognized that scepter anywhere.

How had the tomb-raiders gotten their hands on it? And how did they get all of those lightsaber quarter-staffs?

His head was spinning with questions— or perhaps it was his head wound acting up.

_I should probably do something about that._

Jacen closed his eyes, placing a hand gingerly over the burn mark, and he slowed his breathing, remembering what Luke had taught him. His hand glided over each injury as he focused on knitting skin together, erasing bruises and damage, as if time itself turned back.

“That’s better,” he said, more to himself.

“I never saw a Jedi do that before,” the student said. “That would make medical studies irrelevant, if we could get a few of you guys in the hospitals.”

“It’s harder to heal other people,” Jacen said. “To transfer the Force from one creature to another is harder than just manipulating your own energy.”

“I don’t really get it, that sounds completely arbitrary.”

Jacen sighed heavily as he re-fastened his tunic. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I should go speak with your site leader, let her know the full severity of the situation.”

After that, he was planning on returning to speak with Luke. Because he had to know now how these tomb-raiders got their hands on such a powerful artifact.

He stopped as he reached the doorway of the tent. “Thank you, by the way.”

“It’s no problem, that’s what I’m literally here to do, is help Dr. Aventuras with patching everybody up.” The student shrugged—whether modestly or nonchalantly, Jacen wasn’t sure.

Jacen just nodded, and picked up his lightsaber off of the small side table near the opening of the tent. He was just grateful that they had thought to grab it, and that he did not need to go back to the Valley and look for it. The possibility of having to call it through layers of sand or otherwise made him wince at the pure tedium.

His only regret, stepping out into the sun which had grown low and red on the horizon, was that he had not found any further clues as to what had happened to Reza.

But in the light of the setting sun, Jacen felt a strange sort of peace—the kind he only felt in the presence of the Force and its workings. It reminded him of how the Order of the Whills that hailed from Jedha described their interpretations of the Force, or the Whills as they called it. There was a serenity, the feeling that had had stumbled across something he was always meant to find. The questions he had were all a part of leading to the answers he was looking for. As long as he continued to trust in the Force, he was on his way.


	3. The Temple of the Winged Goddess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for mentions and flashbacks to a hostage situation that occurred offscreen in hopeless fountain kingdom on Crseih Station. 
> 
> First mention occurs at “I know what I saw” until the next paragraph, and then there is a second mention starting at “Jacen said nothing” and ending with the paragraph that starts with “he shook his head to clear it.”

Mist rolled off of the courtyard and ruined temple of the Winged Goddess, the aura of Allya’s presence washing over Jacen as he walked from the makeshift spaceport the Jedi used for their vehicles to the building where the Jedi Archives were located. The structures surrounding the ancient courtyard were commissioned to be built by Hapan locals to imitate the structures made by the ancient race that had once brought Allya to the edge of Hapan space. It was an appeasement of sorts, considering that the Jedi were not truly _her_ people.

* * *

_“Allya was a Jedi, by all accounts,” Luke had once told Jacen. “She did not even attempt to resist the dark, and as a result, the Council had banished her to Dathomir, which used to be a penal colony. Allya, however, was able to teach the other women imprisoned with her the ways of the Force, and they were able to revolt, banish the Republic, and take sovereignty of the planet. She experimented with the Force, creating the style of the witches.”_

_“I thought Allya was a goddess.” Jacen had frowned, remembering the religion he had learned at his mother’s knee and during dreaded winters in Dathomir. “_ Amilye _. . . She said she met her.”_

_Luke considered him for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Worship has an interesting effect on the Force. It can shape how the Force appears and how one might interpret its whisperings. My mother’s people had several Jedi who saw their gods and goddesses come to them in times of peril.”_

_Jacen had considered this a moment. “So you’re saying,_ Amilye _would have seen Allya, and the Witches would have seen Allya because they believed she was a goddess?”_

_“More or less.” Luke shrugged. “Doesn’t matter much to me.”_

* * *

Still, Jacen wondered if the reason why they were tolerated so well by the goddess was because there was an element of truth to that origin story. It was all ancient history and legend that could never truly be verified. But there was always a bit of truth in legends.

It was strange, looking upon this place since he had been knighted. The Padwans were no longer his peers,now small and naive to him, creatures to protect. He felt more like one of the weathered visiting Jedi, with fierce eyes and serene smiles. He would nod to them as he passed, and they would nod back, now treating him with a respect that was earned. Crseih had gone a long way in gaining him that respect and camaraderie with the other Jedi Knights.

If only Reza were still with him, then they would be enjoying this together. He pictured this alternative future in his mind’s eye, where they were patrolling the galaxy side-by-side and enjoying all they’d earned, the futures they had built together.

Jacen frowned, adjusting his jacket as he returned to reality. He could only hope that he would find her soon, and someday they would do exactly what they were meant to.

The first floor of the Jedi Archives were dedicated to the holo and flimsi library. Padawans sat huddled over tables reading holo files on their datapads and whispering about the petty and bubbly little dramas that were a constant in their changing galaxy. Older Jedi relaxed as they read through ancient texts on Jedi philosophy or looking stressed with several datapads and texts strewn around them, looking as if they were on their seventh cups of caff.

Jacen passed all of them, heading up the staircase, past the restricted section on the second floor, and to the third floor where the artifacts they had confiscated over the years were collected.

Sitting at the door, fussing with her datapad, was one of the two apprentices of the Jedi Historian. Brianna Carren was a tall and slender Corellian who sported a worn green leather jacket and a high ponytail that added an illusion of her being even taller than she already was. 

Jacen stood there for several moments in awkward silence before Brianna finally looked up from her datapad with disdain.

“Can I help you?” Brianna drawled. “This place is off-limits to anybody who hasn’t worked it out with Master Tharen or Master Skywalker.”

“I haven’t had time to send a transmission, and I don’t want to cause an alarm,” Jacen began quickly. “But I think the Scepter of Ragnos has been stolen and is now in the hands of a new cult of dark Jedi.”

Brianna raised her eyebrows. “Look, I know you’re Skywalker’s great-nephew or whatever, but you’re going to need a better excuse than that.”

Jacen bit his lip. “Can you please ask Master Tharen to speak with me. It’s very important that I know for sure whether or not I truly saw the Scepter of Ragnos among those dark Jedi.”

Brianna rolled her eyes. “I don’t think I will. Now get out before I decide to use this DXR-6 Master Horn recovered from some smuggler’s den on you.”

Jacen was about to continue arguing when a boy with white hair and a pretty face reminiscent of Face Loren stepped through the blast doors blocking the Treasure Room away from the public. The boy smiled, melting his usually solemn demeanor. Jacen recognized him immediately as Yun Vasilias, one of the friends he had made among the Jedi and and a member of his Padawan cohort along him, Reza, Brianna, and several others.

“Jacen, it’s good to see you, you’re rarely on-world anymore,” Yun teased.

Jacen felt his own face soften a little in response. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? It’s a big galaxy, you know. There’s a lot to keep me busy.”

“Not too busy to come back home every now and then.” Yun glanced from Jacen to Brianna. “I heard trouble. What are you two arguing about now?”

“I was doing my job,” Brianna protested, flipping her side-bangs defiantly. “He was trying to get into the Treasure Room without permission from Master Tharen or Master Skywalker.”

Yun looked back to Jacen. “What’s going on, then?’

“I need to speak with Master Tharen,” Jacen said. “I have reason to believe some objects in the Treasure Room have been stolen—including the Scepter of Ragnos.”

Yun’s brown eyes went wide. Nearly everyone who was a member of the Order at the time knew about what had happened with Crseih Station and the attack on Stalstinek IV and remembered the role the Scepter had played in it.

“I’ll go get Master Tharen right away,” Yun said, and he darted back into the Treasure Room.

Brianna huffed a sigh. “Whatever.”

Jacen tried to quell his irritation and conjure some pity for one of his more abrasive peers. “I’m sorry if I didn’t explain correctly, I just wanted to make sure—“

“Look, save it for Master Tharen, no one listens to me around here anyway.” Brianna opened a mobile game on her datapad and began messing around again.

Yun returned with Master Koo Tharen close behind.

A human woman in her early thirties with dark hair and dark eyes, Master Tharen was polished in her scarlet robes that betrayed her elegant upper-class upbringing as one of the upper families of Coruscant.

She smiled immediately—a charming and polite facade, and one that Jacen was able to recognize anywhere, thanks to his Hapan upbringing. Women in power and wealth were the same anywhere in the galaxy, he suspected. It was just that the Hapan women were far more powerful than their wiles and charms gave them credit for.

“Young Knight Djo, it’s good to see you,” she said. “Yun said you needed to speak with me?”

“I do,” Jacen said. “As you might know, I’ve just returned from a distress call from the Valley of the Sith to help the University of Corellia’s dig site fend off tomb-raiders.”

Master Tharen laughed. “I’m afraid I can’t keep track of every knight’s movements within the order. I can hardly keep track of my apprentices!”

“Well, let me cut to the chase, then.” Jacen adjusted the collar of his jacket. “These weren’t your ordinary tomb-raiders on Korriban. They were dark Jedi, and they came with the Scepter of Ragnos.”

Master Tharen blinked, her composure slipping for a moment. She schooled her features into a pretty but still grim expression. “That can’t be, with all due respect, Knight Djo. I keep all records of any artifacts that leave this place, and I would know if an artifact that large went missing, not to mention I keep track of who enters this place. All of this to say, Knight Djo, that there is no chance that the Scepter could have left this place without my knowledge.”

“I know what I saw,” Jacen insisted. “I would know that Scepter anywhere, I know how it feels in the Force—I remember Rystra sticking the end of that thing in my face and threatening me with it—“

Brianna and Yun averted their gazes awkwardly as Jacen spoke. He stopped to regain control of himself, to build back up a wall between himself and the events on Crseih, a wall built with three years of memories and adventures since.

“If you are certain it is still here, then please let me look at it,” Jacen pleaded. “It would give me ease of mind, to know for sure that I made a mistake.”

Master Tharen stared at him unblinkingly, her expression indecipherable for a long breath.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

Brianna’s brilliant aquamarine eyes flashed in a panic up from her datapad screen. “Are you sure? That artifact is dangerous, he can’t touch it—“

“I won’t,” Jacen promised. “I just need get close—then I’ll know for sure.”

Brianna bit her lip. “I don’t like it. But if you go in with Vasilias and Master Tharen. . . “

“Don’t worry about me, Brianna,” Master Tharen assured her with a warm smile. “I can certainly take care of myself. Nothing bad will happen.”

“Right.” Brianna didn’t seem so sure about that, but she knew just as Jacen did that she was far outranked.

“Come along, Knight Djo, Yun.” Master Tharen flicked her wrist toward the open blast doors, leading the two young Jedi Knights into the Treasure Room.

The artifacts were locked behind transparisteel in the room of black metal and brown stone, lining the walls and covering the tables. Lying on its side, in one of the cases, was none other than the Scepter of Ragnos.

“See, it’s still here,” Master Tharen said. “So you couldn’t have seen it in Korriban.”

Jacen still approached the case. Something was wrong, he could just feel it. His nerves felt afire as he stepped towards the transparisteel. He closed his eyes, remembering the end of the scepter digging under his chin, and the feeling of fishhooks pulling at him the Force, the very molecules threatening to dissipate in the pull, in the void of scepter. He remembered how hungry it was.

He felt none of that with it just sitting there.

He frowned, opening his eyes. “It’s not the real scepter.”

Before Master Tharen could respond or react, Jacen pulled out his commlink and dialed to Luke’s frequency.

“Red Five, do you read me?” It had been a long time since Luke had ever officially gone by that callsign, but all the same it had become an identifier.

“Jacen, what’s wrong? I didn’t realize you were planetside again.”

“Meet me in the Treasure Room— the Scepter of Ragnos has been stolen and replaced by a fake.”

The other end clicked off immediately, with the silent assurance that Luke would come.

“This is extreme, and surely you’re wrong,” Master Tharen said.

Jacen said nothing, watching the scepter with disdain. He could remember when Rystra had turned the scepter on Reza, threatening her with it instead, and how Jacen had confessed to everything they’d discovered about him while she sobbed. . .

He shook his head to clear it. That was in the past, and it deserved to stay there. But still, he knew that Scepter better than anyone, save Luke, and the object in the case wasn’t it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allya’s backstory of being a Jedi outcast really was her backstory in the Legends canon. Admittedly, in the original Landscapes, Allya is an aspect of the Daughter of Mortis. But I chose to evolve on that, especially because I’ve always been conflicted about the lore of the Ones and the mystique they kind of take away from the Force, if they really are the Gods of it. That said, you can interpret the passage any way you like and reconcile it with Landscapes in any way you like. That’s the wonder of fiction :)


	4. Good Riddance

“You’re right.” Luke had taken the scepter out of the case to observe it. “This is not the Scepter of Ragnos.”

He then looked to Master Tharen. “I don’t understand how this happened.”

“Neither do I.” Master Tharen glanced first to Yun, then to Brianna. “I haven’t let anyone in without an appointment, and I log everyone who visits this place. This did not happen on my watch.”

“Look, it wasn’t me.” Brianna held her hands up in surrender. “I took the DXR-6 for a reason. For some reason, a lightsaber isn’t nearly as threatening as this baby is to other Jedi.”

“That’s because those are banned by Hapans, the New Republic, _and_ the First Order,” Luke informed her gently. “And that really should be in the Treasure Room with the other confiscated experimental weapons.”

“Okay, I’ll put it back, but I still didn’t do it,” Brianna huffed. “I mean, Yun was about to let his friend here in without an appointment or authorization. And I mean, his parents are First Order officers—“

Yun’s face darkened, but he said nothing.

“Stop right there,” Luke said. “I understand that you are scared and angry, Brianna. And for good reason. But we do not go around accusing people because of what their parents did, no less. We do not use others origins against them in this Order.”

He then turned to Yun. “Have you let anyone in without authorization.”

“No.” Yun looked to Jacen. “I figured he was in on your business when he came in.”

“Nepotism,” Brianna coughed.

“That’s enough,” Luke said gently. He then stroked his gray beard, thinking for a moment. “I don’t like this. We would know if Sith had come with a raiding party again, especially with how we’ve reinforced the place after what happened with the Disciples of Kodank. No, this means that someone inside of the Order was involved with this.”

“A mole?” Jacen spluttered. He couldn’t think of any Jedi that would do such a thing.

“I don’t want to believe it either, but that clearly is what happened here.” Luke finished locking the false scepter away in the transparisteel box once more. “It was planned and replaced, so it would look like the artifact remained here, so we wouldn’t suspect it. We know who would have come in or out, and they all had appointments. It had to be someone within the Order.”

“What do we do, then?” Master Tharen crossed her arms over her chest.

“We need to keep this between the five of us, right now,” Luke said. “I don’t want the Order to get into a panic, or for the mole to know that we’ve identified them. This could get ugly, and that’s the last thing we need, given that the galaxy still has a lot of hard feelings toward the Jedi after the Galactic Civil Wars and the Clone Wars.”

“I don’t see any other solutions.” Master Tharen sighed, then shot an icy look at both her apprentices. “This doesn’t leave this room, is that understood?”

“Yes Master Tharen,” both Yun and Brianna chorused.

“Thank you.” Luke looked to Jacen. “Don’t take off just yet. Wait for me. It’s time we went to see your mother— she might be able to offer insight and help with what has happened. And she’s been sending transmissions to me, asking for you to come home as soon as possible.”

Jacen ignored the childish impulse to groan and throw his head back, refusing to return to Hapes. “Yes, Uncle Luke. I’ll clear out my bunk. Should have done that a while ago, seeing as I never sleep here anymore.”

“You are growing up.” There was a fond twinkle in Luke’s eye. “Thank you, Koo, for your help in this.”

“I’m happy to serve the Order,” Master Tharen replied seamlessly. She then looked to Jacen. “And thank you for bringing this matter to our attention. It’s clear we have a crisis in the making.”

Jacen wished the galaxy could have a break from those.

* * *

The dormitories were split by cohort, and Jacen’s cohort had only just shifted to the one for adults and knights, since they had only graduated a year ago into knighthood. As a result, there rarely ever was anyone in there, now that most of them had responsibilities and a duty to the galaxy. Never had Jacen been more grateful for this, as he didn’t want to stick around too long or for others to watch.

As soon as he stepped through the doorway to the boys’ dormitory, he was overwhelmed with a sense of nostalgia. Not for the somewhat rickety bunks that kept one up for fear that it would snap under one’s weight, but for the memories and the camaraderie that had once existed in this place.

While it wasn’t the exact same building or room as the one he had first been assigned to when he was thirteen, all the people and the objects were the same. He passed the trunks of other students, and the parts of the stone walls where posters and printed-out holos were plastered to it in a messy collage.

At the end of the room, Jacen was greeted with the bunk he shared with Yun. He’d chosen the lower one, and in the little space of wall that was his, between the bunks, there were printed holos of the cohort all together.

Several were of Reza, sitting on the edge of the fountain in the center of the courtyard, smiling in the sunshine. Jacen couldn’t help but smile back as he reached out to touch her face, albeit sadly. He then looked to the end of the bed, where a Hapan blanket, azure with gold embroidery, lay tossed aside in a mess.

He then looked to the plain dresser he and Yun had also shared. The mirror was cracked from an incident of them screwing around when they were fourteen, and scattered on the top of the dresser were Jedi texts, various boxes of ammo and blaster bolts, a vibroblade from Yun’s grandfather, and the terrarium of Jacen’s last remaining pet.

Most of the menagerie he had acquired in childhood had succumbed to old age before he even left for the Academy, and the few holdouts were buried on Stalstinek IV, except for one.

Synthstone was a pet snake that he had gotten from a trip to Yavin IV as a child, a crystal snake. He had been so lucky as to never be bitten by him, but there had been frequent complaints by servants and other Padawans about him, as Synthstone’s bite could knock someone unconscious anywhere from a minute to an hour. He was also good at blending in and being invisible with his reflective crystal scales. Jacen had finally managed to build a terrarium that kept him securely, much to the relief of his roommates.

“Hey buddy,” Jacen said as he looked through the transparisteel. The snake roused and hissed what Jacen presumed was a friendly greeting. “We’re going back to Hapes. It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You’ll get all the top-dollar rats now, won’t you?”

Synthstone returned to sleep, presumably starting to dream about returning to Hapan luxury once more.

Jacen sighed, and lifted his trunk with the Force. He removed his ammo boxes and clothes, just tossing them in, as he would get it all organized later. Besides, the majority of his clothes were now in the cargo bay of the _Thunder Wraith_ or in the closet of his chambers in the Fountain Palace, and there wasn’t much here anymore, anyway.

He then threw the blanket on top of the other items, and then gently started peeling away his posters and holos, taking great care not to tear anything, especially the holos. He could not hang such things up on the walls of the palace. Perhaps he would put them up on the cabin inside of the _Thunder Wraith_?

What was important was that he kept all of the memories intact in flimsi form. Posters of the bands his friends introduced him to, movies they saw on the HoloNet together when they were supposed to be asleep, holos of all the times they had spent together.

This was the life he had built up outside of Hapes, outside of his mother’s peoples. This was what was his, and his alone.

He stopped with a picture of him on the day his cohort was knighted. In clean off-white robes with arcane symbols embroidered on them, he knelt, looking confident and grave as Luke held the end of his green blade over his shoulder. It surprised Jacen, how much he resembled his father in the holo.

He turned the holo facedown as he set it on top of the blanket and the other posters. Only one remained on the wall, a holo of Reza on that same day during her knighting. She wasn’t grave or grim, although she was confident. She was smiling, triumphant. She had everything she’d ever wanted at that point. She knew her origins, she had her purpose. And she had him.

It was only a week later when she went missing. The memory of the last night he saw her was burned into Jacen’s mind forever.

* * *

_“Come on, I want to take you someplace special.”_

_He led her to the top of the Temple, just as Luke had showed him when he first came to Stalstinek IV. It was a beautiful night, the kind lovers in Hapes lived for. It was so bright, so colorful, so clear. A cool breeze ruffled Reza’s curls as she took in the night air. They were quiet for a moment, and while Reza watched the night, Jacen watched Reza, noticing the dark circles under her large brown eyes._

_“Hey, are you sleeping okay? You look tired.”_

_“Yeah, yeah.” Reza didn’t look at him as she dismissed his concerns. “Just. . . I’ve been having some strange dreams, lately.”_

_Jacen frowned. “What kind of dreams?”_

_“Memories. . .Things I thought were lost forever,” Reza murmured. “Things from my old life.”_

_Jacen tilted his head, concerned. “Did you want for them to come back?”_

_“I used to, before Crseih.” Reza shook her head. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s all gone now. Everyone I knew then is dead and gone. What matters is what is here and now.”_

_Jacen wasn’t convinced, but he knew better than to push her. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I love you.”_

_She smiled and looked up at him—but there was something darker and uncertain about her smile as she spoke. “I know. And I love you, too.”_

_She looked back out at the night sky. “I think I just need a good night’s sleep. I’m sorry.”_

_“No, no, it’s okay,” Jacen assured her, standing up. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”_

_“Okay.” Reza accepted his hand, helping her up. “Thank you. You’re a great guy, Jacen.”_

_Right before she walked into her dormitory, she had kissed him._

* * *

Jacen shook his head and latched closed his trunk. He would find her someday.

For now, it was time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is a reference to the Green Day song “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)” which was used to write this chapter.
> 
> Also, the DXR-6 is an anti-matter gun for reference.


	5. Prince of Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: sexual harassment and minor attempted assault. Scene starts from “On the way” and ends at the line break.

The sun had just set on Hapes when the _Thunder Wraith_ flew into the Royal Hangar, in its dock right next to where the _Delphoro_ was parked.

“Huh, your sister must have returned from Polis Mesa,” Luke muttered as he helped himself out of the cockpit. “I wonder if her husband is on-planet. . .”

“We can talk about my sister’s marriage later,” Jacen quipped, although he internally shuddered at the thought. Sansin Koriss, or Sansin Djo, as he was now publicly known, was a strange addition to the family, to say the least.

Not many people could say after all that they had a brother-in-law who used to be dead. A part of Sansin supposed that it was just the Djo legacy to fall in love with the wrong person, that being Isolder for Teneniel, his father for his mother, and so on. Honestly, for all that Sansin had seemed mysterious and eerie for the first few months after coming back to life, the mystique eroded quickly when he kept walking into walls all the time.

Now the man was so different, one could even consider the time that Sansin Koriss was a ghost to be a bad dream, a twisted reflection of the man currently destined to be the consort of the next Queen Mother. What took his place was a young man who would someday be a philosopher king, a remnant of a civilized age of Alderaan.

Luke and Sansin had found a strange sort of friendship with Luke and Jacen’s more frequent visits to Hapes after what occurred on Crseih. Both were adamant tea-drinkers and while they did not always see eye-to-eye on Force philosophies, Jacen could tell that Luke held a lot of respect for the former Sith and his opinions.

Jacen took a satchel of necessary items, and hurried out into the hangar, and started down the labyrinth of corridors that would lead to the Queen Mother’s suite. The transmission had asked that they visit there, since it was after hours for the Queen Mother’s court and this business could not wait.

On the way, he and Luke passed a gaggle of young noblewomen around his age, wearing gowns of glittering satin and drowning in jewels hung round their necks and wrists and sewed to their corsets and oceans of skirts.

They giggled, shrewd jewel eyes locking onto Jacen,even as he tried to avoid meeting their eyes, to walk with more purpose. Still, he could feel their eyes sizing him up, he could faintly hear the speculation of how the prince of Hapes truly looked beneath the loose and drab Jedi robes he wore.

“I wonder if the rumors about the Queen Mother’s husband would apply to her son. . . “

Jacen felt heat in his cheeks and walked faster. Not that it didn’t stop one of the young women from trying to reach out and touch him as they passed.

He sensed it before it could happen and grabbed her wrist so tightly that the noblewoman gasped, violet eyes wide with panic.

Jacen immediately let go, stumbling back as he tried to process all that happened.

“Come on, kiddo.” Luke placed a hand on Jacen’s shoulder.

The sight of an aged Luke Skywalker dispersed the noblewomen faster than Jacen could have hoped for.

Jacen expected a lecture about not reacting so quickly, but he heard no such thing. Confused, he looked to Luke.

“That’s one of the few situations where you should have done exactly what you did,” Luke assured him, speaking in hushed tones as they continued through the palace. “I wish you didn’t have to deal with it, kiddo.”

Me too, Jacen thought. The noblewomen had grown more brazen, now that he was nineteen, his sweetheart was nowhere to be found after a year,and until Anakin grew up, he was their only chance at getting anywhere close to the throne.

It wasn’t really ever talked about, how Hapan men were treated and especially by the aristocracy. His father had been relatively lucky in being arranged in marriage to his mother so soon after setting foot in Hapes. He didn’t know what Jacen had to put up with, as much as he and Rey tried to protect him.

* * *

Jacen was surprised at how empty the Queen Mother’s suite was by the time he and Luke made it there. Only Breha and Anakin were inside. Anakin was playing on his children’s datapad, presumably doing some sort of slicing game while Breha typed messages to presumably friends at the Flight Academies while curled up in the armchair, using one arm as a backrest and draping her knees over the other. She had also recently spent a semester in the First Order’s Flight Academy on Carrida and had been in the three most elite flight schools in the galaxy.

Jacen knew that she would soon be graduating, and this was essentially a reading week for all three major academies. The final exams would come soon enough.

Jacen wondered how much of his little sister he would see after her graduation. Like him, Breha wasn’t the type to stay in Hapan space, as much as she could help it anyway. Both of them had greater things in their blood than lounging around in palaces and making silver-tongued conversations over trade routes and taxation rates.

Allana did too, but some of her greatness did lie in such things.

“Amilye and Atta are out on their walk, and Allana and her Ghost Boy are out on the beach, doing the same thing.”

Breha interrupted Jacen’s reverie with her announcement and looking up from her datapad.

“Thank you, Breha.” Luke was the first to react. “I see you finally made yourself a lightsaber.”

Jacen did a double-take—he had missed the silver hilt next to his sister’s Gun of Command and more standard military blaster pistol.

“We happened to find some crystals during a training exercise when we got lost in this cave network on Ilium.” Breha shrugged nonchalantly. “I remembered that I never really made one, so I thought it was about time I tried.”

“Well, let’s see,” Luke said encouragingly. “I always thought it was a shame that I never got to train you as a Jedi—you have the right spirit for it. Although I am proud to hear you’ve beaten all my records on the Alliance side.”

A smirk curled up Breha’s lips—it was all Han. She stood and drew her lightsaber. With a flourish and a spin, she revealed a vibrant orange blade, the same color as a Rogue Squadron coverall.

“Nice tech.” Luke let out a low whistle of approval. “I recognize some of those parts—they were spares from the engine room, weren’t they?”

“I had to take what I could get.” Breha extinguished her lightsaber and clipped it safely to her belt. “I kinda get the appeal of having these things now. It’s a fun toy when I’m in a bit of a situation. You know, Chewie’s a lot shadier than I thought.”

“I flew with him during the war, you don’t have to tell me,” Luke chuckled. “So, you’ll be graduating. Any idea where you’ll be stationed?”

“The Hapan Embassy on Coruscant,” Breha said. “Shara will be stationed at the New Republic Embassy. Atta and Senator Dameron pulled a few strings.”

Luke chuckled. “That sounds like the both of them. I’m glad to hear it—I expect to hear great things, about a pilot far greater than I ever was.”

“Thanks, Uncle Luke.” There was a blush in Breha’s cheeks.

Luke then moved onto Anakin, who looked up right before Luke turned.

“Anakin.” Luke always spoke the name with care. Jacen suspected he was trying to displace his father in his head when he did so. “You’re working on your slicing again, aren’t you?”

Anakin nodded— he still didn’t speak all that much. While he did enough to not be seen as uncanny or strange by the court, Jacen knew his little brother was more of an observer and a thinker than a speech maker.

Another one of us not made out for politics.

Jacen couldn’t help but smile at the thought. It seemed most of the Shardas line and the Naberrie genes for diplomacy had not passed on to any of the Djos but Allana. And even then. . .

Before Luke could continue to attempt a conversation with Anakin, he was interrupted by the entrance of the Queen Mother of Hapes and the Emperor of the First Order.

Luke bowed, while Jacen stood awkwardly, as both his parents seemed to hate the bowing from their children unless it was for some stupid pretentious ceremony.

“Rise,” Rey ordered in a cool voice. She had never quite recovered from what she had discovered Luke had done when both he and Kylo were far younger.

“It is good to see you,” Kylo said earnestly. “Both of you. We can go back out to the gardens to speak—“

Luke shook his head. “If we may, I would like to speak here, since this is the only place in the palace besides the Chume’da’s chambers that isn’t bugged. I dont want any Hapans listening in on this.”

“There are none, if you go deep in the gardens,” Rey promised. “And there aren’t any in the bedrooms or the bathrooms, I made sure the Chume’doro removed those—“

Occasionally Jacen was able to put it out of his mind that one of his mother’s peoples came from a long line of tyrant queens.

“Then we will speak in the gardens.” Luke bowed his head diplomatically.

“Yes, if you will both follow me.” Kylo gestured, a little flourish causing his celestial cape to billow out dramatically.

* * *

Jacen did admit that he missed the gardens of his childhood. With the jewel-like fish in the ponds and exquisite flowers, this was where he had spent his time running around and coming up with all sorts of adventures. This was also the place where he played with most of his menagerie of pets and first came to love botany.

There was a sense of nostalgia in the late autumn air of Hapes. Still, it was beautiful this time of year, as everything grew more vibrant in the last of its season. Soon enough, ice and snow would blanket everything and a different beauty would take her turn on Hapes.

It was here, deep in the gardens, that Kylo initiated what happened next.

“What happened?” Kylo demanded. “Your transmission was vague.”

Jacen quickly recounted what happened on Korriban and on Stalstinek IV, explaining the disappearance of the Scepter and the likelihood of a spy in the ranks of the Jedi.

“I don’t like this at all,” Kylo said as he turned to Luke. “That scepter’s become a nuisance.”

“It seems so.” Luke sighed heavily. “I had hoped for better this time. I won’t reveal any suspects,not until I know for sure who is colluding with the tomb raiders.”

“They’re likely not ordinary tomb raiders if they have lightsabers and the scepters.” Kylo turned his back to his uncle and his son. “We cannot let the remainder of the Archives stay on Stalstinek IV. Not when so many of them must be either locked away or stay in the hands of the Jedi.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Luke said. “I hoped you would come to that conclusion. We need to do this in a way that will keep the majority of the Jedi ignorant of what has happened.”

“I will get to work on commissioning Hapan artists to create replicas,” Kylo promised. “And I will speak with Allana and see if the Museum at the University of Corellia would be able to safeguard the artifacts with their unique security benefits.”

“Thank you.” Luke smiled sadly. “I can’t stay here too long, I do have to continue investigations as I can at the Praxeum.”

He turned to Jacen. “I’m trusting you to follow this all the way. You’re a Knight now. . . I know that whatever needs to be done to find the scepter,to track down these tomb-raiders—you’ll do what is right.”

“I—thank you.” Jacen blinked. “I won’t let you down.”

“You never have.”

There was something sad in Kylo’s eyes as Luke patted Jacen’s shoulder. Jacen realized that he had usurped what his father should have had. What he might have had, if he had not made one mistake.


	6. The University of Corellia

It was strange to see the planet where his paternal grandfather grew up—even if he never set foot anywhere like the pristine pavilion that connected the Museum of the University of Corellia to the rest of the University’s campus. Located on the opposite side of Coronet, far from their rivals of Coronet University, the University of Corellia was where the children of elites went, sometimes from around the galaxy.

While not nearly as gaudy as Hapes in the display of opulence, the towering pillars and shining transparisteel windows still were a reminder of the wealth that the school accumulated from their high tuition rate. It was winter in Corellia, and despite the heat of the city, there were still parts of the building coated in snow with a grayish tint, a color made from the smog of the industrial parts of Coronet.

It was also so early in the morning that it was dark, so there weren’t any students at the pavilion to see the Emperor of the First Order, the Chume’da of Hapes, and the Prince of Hapes, followed by First Order officials carrying what were essentially portable vaults.

They made their march onto the front steps of the museum, where the curator and the Chancellor of the University were waiting for the Solo-Djos.

The museum curator was a woman with a stark gray bob and a fitted plum sweater and iridescent blazer with a golden rebel firebird pin on the lapel, and had a nametag that identified her as Professor Henrieyeta Antilles.

The Chancellor of the University was also an older humanoid, a man Garik Duine. He was nearly as tall as Jacen’s father, perhaps just an inch under him with steely gray-green eyes, a color that was brought out by his deep green attire, inspired by the official colors of the University.

Both bowed to the Emperor and his children.

“Thank you, for agreeing to house these artifacts,” Allana said, a smile on her face. “I just also wanted to say that I’m quite a fan of your thesis, Professor Antilles.”

“We will also compensate you as you deserve, since no income can be made through displaying these items,” Kylo added quickly. “These items cannot be seen by the public. They need to remain under security at all times.”

“We understand the importance of keeping these treasures of the past out of the hands of those who would use them for ill.” Duine straightened the collar of his tunic. “It was an honor the University of Corellia to be chosen as a place to house these items. We will do so with pride and the utmost discretion.”

“Besides, we owe it to the family of that poor girl to ensure that no one else is ever harmed by these artifacts again,” Antilles sighed.

“Girl?” Jacen frowned. “What girl? Are you talking about the student who disappeared on Korriban?”

“We shouldn’t speak out in the open,” Duine interrupted, glancing around. “Come inside, with the artifacts, before any trouble comes.”

Jacen reluctantly shut his mouth and followed his father inside the grand Atrium of the Museum. The majority of the lights were out, except for a few golden security lanterns on the walls. They walked past the pillars and exhibits to an area that Professor Antilles unlocked, as it was supposed to be for “employees only.”

Allana was the most excited that Jacen had ever seen her, practically bouncing on her platformed boots as she looked around the secret archives of the University of Corellia.

“As you can see, some of the artifacts you generously donated to the museum are here in our archives when they aren’t being displayed.” Professor Antilles gestured to Allana, who nodded and smiled with all the radiance of binary stars.

“I assume many artifacts from the Korriban site end up confined to the archives,” Jacen said, trying to probe a little further. “Whatever happened to the artifact that caused an explosion in the temple of Belos?”

“We don’t have it,” Professor Antilles confessed, her weathered cheeks turning red. “That disappeared along with Miss Castalia—“

“Was that her name?”

“I’m not supposed to speak about the incident.” Professor Antilles’ eyes flicked back to the Chancellor. “Technically, the Angel of the Dunes is supposed to remain a university secret, a legend. It’s disrespectful to the girl’s family, they don’t deserve to have that tragedy dug up again and again.”

“But I’ve seen her,” Jacen argued. “She saved my life— ghosts don’t do that.”

“I mean. . . “ Allana trailed off, twisting the ring on her finger.

“That ghost had some weird Sith magic and alchemy that made him able to do stuff, and this wasn’t like that.” Jacen couldn’t remember the girl’s face, but he knew if he saw her again, he would recognize her. “She was real, and alive—and she has a gift with the Force.”

“That’s not possible.” Professor Antilles frowned. “We looked, for over a year—I personally looked for her, but there wasn’t a trace. There’s no way that she survived on her own on that barren wasteland—most of the water supply can only be taken in by the native creatures there, the Sithspawn. Most sentients die horrible deaths if they rely on the landscape for food and water.”

“I know what I saw,” Jacen insisted. “And I want to know her name.”

“Enough,” Duine barked. “If we give you the name and you agree not to disturb the family or share this story, will you end this line of questioning?”

“Yes.”

“Kamlin Castalia. Now, moving on, I think we have our vault space over here. . .”

Kylo looked to Jacen inquisitively, drifting back so his daughter could take the lead. Kylo didn’t have to speak for Jacen to know what he was about to ask.

“I don’t know why,” he admitted. “It’s just. . . Important.”

Kylo nodded as if he understood, and returned to the stoic, imperial poise he had carried himself in ever since he was first made the nominal Emperor of the First Order.

Jacen couldn’t help but think however, of the Angel of the Dunes, Kamlin Castalia.

Knowing her name now made her more real, somehow. Which sounded ridiculous even in Jacen’s own head because he had seen her, he had felt her presence. But with the nickname, and the lack of information that one medic on the dig site had, and the whole idea that she might have been dead all along, it was strange to finally hear proof of her existence.

Although to be fair, his sister did marry a Sith ghost she found in some temple.

Still, when they entered the vault of the Archives, and the Imperial officers began unlocking the cargo vaults to transfer them to their next resting place, Jacen felt a premonition. Something he couldn’t describe to anyone, perhaps it was his hair rising on his neck, a vibration that was otherwise imperceptible, but he whirled around, drawing his lightsaber from his belt in an emerald blur, meeting the tip of a red lightsaber pike as a warrior in the same garb as the tomb-raiders hit the ground.

They were suddenly surrounded by a group of them, the tomb-raiders. As Jacen gritted his teeth, the sparks of his blade clashing with his face and that of his masked foe, he knew what had happened.

Somehow, the tomb-raiders had known that the artifacts were being transferred, and that they would be going to the University of Corellia.

With a sudden push, he was able to send the pike flying, and thrust his lightsaber through the abdomen of the tomb-raider, and whirled back around to try and protect some of the artifacts.

Already two Imperial officers were dead, but the rest had been sharp on the draw and had been able to hold their own. Duine and Antilles had drawn blasters that Jacen realized had been concealed on their persons, more impressively with Antilles, given her form-fitting outfit and the size of her rifle.

Kylo expertly cut through fighters, although his style was not nearly as refined as Allana’s or Jacen’s. He still carried a feral edge to his fighting, the dark side. But the tomb-raiders were not fighting with brute force. Incorporating acrobatics and flexible, cunning moves, they wove in-between soldiers, setting little bug-like droid devices on several of the cargo crates. The crates beeped, and soared out of the Archives, exiting out through the high transparisteel windows that had been shattered by the tomb-raiders entering.

Reaching out in the Force, Jacen felt one artifact in its powerful light, and he realized he had to do everything in his power to keep them from getting this one thing.

The one artifact of note that had been recovered from the Valley of the Jedi three years ago. The greatest weapon the Jedi had created, far greater than the lightsaber or any weapon utilizing the Death Star’s technology.

He ran towards a wall, kicking off of the floor and then the wall, flipping as he sent his lightsaber flying, cutting in an arc through two tomb-raiders who had gotten far too close to that crate, and then cutting open the outer layer of the vault, exposing the contents.

Jacen landed in a roll on the ground, having botched the initial idea for a landing somewhat. Calling his lightsaber back to his hand, he scrambled to his hands and knees and flung himself at the crate, everything else around him a blur inhis quest. His hand closed around the circular golden stone, shaped like an eye. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, and he could feel it in the Force, greeting him like an old friend.

He looked up just in time to get kicked in the head by a tomb-raider. Vision blurring, he fell on his back, scrambling away as he tried to get his bearings. He ignited his lightsaber once more, just managing to block a red lightsaber end just as he was up against the wall and the floor.

Knuckles white around the Eye of the Jedi, he managed to kick the legs out from under the tomb-raider, rolling out of the way as the raider accidentally cut his own legs off with the other end of the lightsaber pike.

Jacen was on his knees, about to rise and dispatch the tomb-raider when Kylo plunged the end of his crossguard into the small of the tomb-raider’s back.

“No one hurts my son,” Kylo exhaled to no one in particular. He looked to Jacen as he finished getting up from the ground. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah—“ Jacen then turned just in time to block the blades of another enemy combatant, Kylo turning his attention to the tomb-raider who stuck the final little bug-like droid onto the cracked vault.

She blocked his blows with more expertise than the rest of the tomb-raiders, and jumped onto the crate as the light on the little droid turned blue and the crate started to levitate.

Kylo leapt up, trying to grab on to the handle on the side, but the crate vibrated and rocked, almost throwing the rider to the ground.

Jacen looked back to the raider he had clashed blades with, but the tomb-raider settled on merely pushing Jacen back before running off, as did the other tomb-raiders.

In that second, he hadn’t seen what had happened to his father.

Before he could chase after the tomb-raider,he heard Allana cry out.

“ _ATTA_!”

Jacen turned around to see his father fall from five feet to the ground, landing on his back and groaning as he rolled to his side.

Jacen no longer cared about the raiders, or anything. He numbly pocketed the Eye of the Jedi and ran to his father.

“Don’t help me,” Kylo huffed as Jacen approached. “They exited out the window— get this on their ship.”

He tossed a small tracker, elegant Hapan technology at its finest, into Jacen’s hand. Knowing there wasn’t a second to lose, Jacen drew on the Force to leap in a single bound onto the small ledge where the little windows were, and through where the tomb-raiders had come in. He squinted, seeing the ship hovering above as the cargo bay was closing.

Without a second thought, he tossed the tracker in a perfect arc, sticking it right behind the back fin of the ship, making it difficult to find for the crew. He watched a moment as the ship flew off into the snowy dawn of Corellia, leaving only a star trail behind them.

Then he slipped back into the museum, where everyone was recovering from the skirmish.

“It’s going to take so long to replace the marble floor,” Duine complained, seeing the scorch marks from lightsabers.

“We apologize, Your Majesty,” one of the Imperial officers said. “We couldn’t prevent them from taking everything.”

“They didn’t take everything,” Jacen said, intervening before his father displayed his infamous temper. He pulled out the Eye of the Jedi.

Kylo nodded his approval, not having to speak a word.

“And I think I know a way to lure them out, once we find out where the ship is going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Henriyeta “Corellia” Antilles is a real Star Wars character inspired by Indiana Jones who worked for the University of Corellia in an RPG that focused on the archaeology in Star Wars.


	7. Tomb Raider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fight scene is going to result in a lot more injuries than I usually allow for my protagonist and a near-death experience, along with all the thought-processes that would go with that. Just skip this chapter if that’s not for you, it will be summarized in the next chapter. Take care of your mental health first.

“You know, I’d hoped this wouldn’t be the answer,” Jacen said to no one in particular as he hid behind a statue of some hideous Sithspawn carved into the flank of Janton Belos’s tomb. “For once I’d like something to not be on this Goddess-forsaken planet.”

There was no response from the barren desert, not that Jacen expected it. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the Eye of the Jedi. Also known as the Eye of the Sun, it had been critical to the Jedi Order’s victory at the Valley of the Jedi, which had been so hard-won. He tossed it up in the air and caught it a few times before holding it up to the early morning sun. He squinted, glancing away. It really was a sun in its own right.

Jacen finally stowed it back in his pocket, taking care to attach the closings. He then closed his eyes, mentally extending his perception.

* * *

When they returned to Hapes, they discovered that the ship had stopped on Korriban, and had continued elsewhere, only for the code to be scrambled by some sort of magnetic field. Rey had not seen anything like it.

“I created that!” She’d been about to tear her tiara out of her elaborately-plaited hairstyle. “They should not be able to scramble that—“

“It doesn’t seem to be deliberate,” Allana offered, glancing at the code of the scrambling. “I think it was caused by the gravitational pull of the asteroid field they went into.”

Rey was still fuming when Jacen left, the plan already formed in his mind.

They at least knew that there was some presence on Korriban in the form of an outpost or something else. If he could just get his hands on a tomb-raider’s disguise, he could then follow to the coordinates he tracked, and do some recon.

* * *

He opened his eyes, coming across pinpricks of sentient life force that rippled with malevolence in the Force.

He leapt out and off of the statue of the Sithspawn, landing with an impressive flip into the center of the group of seven tomb-raiders. Wasting no time, he cut through the nearest tomb-raider, turning to block the ignited end of a lightsaber pike of another raider. He kicked out the second one that rushed him, freeing one hand from his lightsaber hilt to pull out his blaster and shoot at the other raiders, causing them to either scatter or try to reflect them back at Jacen.

He reached out in the Force putting out enough of a shield for the blaster bolts to ricochet back at the raiders, and glanced back at the tomb-raider who he had locked blades with. The first thing he noticed was that this tomb raider had fingerless gloves with ragged and frayed edges, a surprisingly shiny ring with an arcane sigil on his finger.

Jacen looked up to the round-black goggles, as if the raider had realized at the same time as Jacen did that he had spotted an important clue. He pulled his lightsaber out of the locking of blades, and threw his lightsaber in an arc as he ducked the swing from the lightsaber pike.

He scrambled back, catching the lightsaber and glancing around— he had only gotten one more of the raiders

_Five more to go._

Just as Jacen thought that, he went sprawling forward into the sand, kicked from behind. His lightsaber hilt and blaster fell out of his grasp, hitting the packed sands.

He gritted his teeth, looking up and reaching out with his hands and the Force, only to be greeted with a kick in the face. Pain blossomed up his nose, and he was sure he felt blood trickle down his face. Another tomb-raider stomped down on his fingers, so suddenly that he couldn’t help but cry out.

He could feel the derision and mirth of the tomb-raiders. They were reveling in pain, in the suffering they caused to others.

 _This_ was the dark side. This was what Jacen could never understand about his parents or his sister’s use of the dark.

This was pointlessly cruel—but unlike the majority of the people who they terrorized in this valley,he could take the hits. Tapping into his anger and his rage, he wove a field of energy around himself,a miniature explosion that threw back all of the remaining tomb-raiders. As he forced himself to his feet, he saw the energy rippling green, in patterns of dragons and flames.

He’d never been able to do that before. He ignored his own wonder and instead summoned his lightsaber and blaster back into his hands. He twirled his lightsaber and prepped his blaster, building up momentum as he drew upon his newfound strength and adrenaline, and jumped.

He fired into the heart of one of the raiders and swiped through another one, hitting the ground with a little more force than he anticipated, his ankle twisting under his weight as he stumbled forward. Still, he turned and staggered to face the remaining three.

He fired at one, only to have a second reflect with the end of their lightsaber pike, and the bouncing blaster bolt grazed Jacen’s side. He still somehow managed to charge forwards, swinging through a lightsaber pike and splitting it into two, finishing off the raider with a blaster bolt to the heart, going right through the cracked armor.

He then turned his attention to the second, matching blow for blow in a flow of adrenaline and aggression. Mixed with pain and anger, he didn’t sense the oncoming attack from behind until it was too late.

Searing pain shot up his spine. Jacen could feel his muscles seizing and contracting beneath the fire in his veins as he collapsed to the ground yet again. He tried propping himself up on his elbows, but couldn’t even do that.

Still, he had to try.

He couldn’t let them win.

With everything he had, he threw his lightsaber into the air, and guided it carefully right through both of the remaining tomb-raiders, firing bolts with his blaster to distract them.

They both crumpled to the ground, and Jacen found himself sinking to the sand in a sort of relief.

But he couldn’t rest. Not yet. He had to get help, he had to leave this barren wasteland. He thought of Jakku, of Tatooine, of his parents’ stories. He couldn’t die in a desert, he couldn’t do that to them.

 _This was all such a stupid idea_ , he realized. _I didn’t even get a complete disguise from any of them._

He managed to clip his lightsaber on his belt and return his blaster to his hilt. But he still couldn’t get up. So instead, he started to crawl in the direction of the archaeological camp, at the edge of the valley.

Every inch felt like a mile as the sun crept higher in the sky. Jacen’s spine and throat felt as if they were on fire, each ragged breath feeding the internal flames. He clawed the sand, propelling himself forward slowly, and yet frantically all at once. Spots and flashes made the desert valley disappear entirely, and Jacen thought he saw people who weren’t there, Luke and Reza and his sisters and his father.

But no one was coming to save him.

When he died, would the tomb-raiders come to take the Eye of the Sun from him? Or would the archaeologists come first?

He closed his eyes, curling his arms under him, flattening into the worn sand. He couldn’t fight anymore, he couldn’t keep trying. His courage had been sapped, leaving a boy who was afraid and always had been. The boy who knew the fears that kept his little brother silent all too well.

There was so much he hadn’t done. So much he should have done. He had wasted too much time fighting with his father and resenting his mother and too much time away from home. He hadn’t found Reza. And now he was about to die in a desert, just like his great-great-grandmother had.

He didn’t want to die this way.

With his last strength, he sent out the equivalent of a distress signal in the Force, hoping that someone would receive it.

He lay there, in the sand, fading in and out of consciousness. The last thing he saw before he lost all consciousness was a young woman’s face, covered by a head scarf fluttering in front of her like a wedding veil.

“Kamlin,” he hoarsely whispered in his last moment of clarity.


	8. Eternity

Jacen was greeted with the vague sensation of comfortable warmth and tranquilizing scents before he even had the chance to open his eyes. He didn’t want to wake up yet to the Castle Per’Agthra or the tedious responsibilities within the marble walls, rolling slightly. It didn’t hurt, which surprised him. . .

A jolt of panic coursed through his body as the memories of the Valley returned to him. His eyes flashed open and he slowly sat up to take in his surroundings. He was in some sort of windowless room with a bunk that was covered in various wall-hangings, carpets, and blankets, as well as many other trinkets. Yet he could determine that he was probably in some kind of ship or space station. Richly-colored embroidered blankets covered him in the bunk, and he realized after a moment that his shirt and jacket were gone.

He glanced around the room, and saw that his blaster and lightsaber were sitting on a fold of clothes that looked very much like the white tunic and leather jacket that had been ruined in the fight.

Curious, Jacen freed himself from the weight of the blankets and held up the white tunic. A patch of clean white linen had been added to patch where the blaster bolt had grazed his side, and the back had been stitched up. He quickly put it on and examined the jacket—the same had been done there.

He set the jacket down and took the time to place his blaster in his holster and clip the lightsaber to his belt. By the time he looked up, he saw her standing in the doorway. In fact, this was the first time he had seen her clearly.

Kamlin Castalia had shed the light gray scarf she had wrapped around her hair and shoulders to protect her from the sun, instead wearing a brightly-patterned shirt beneath grease-stained olive coveralls, her hair pulled back into two buns atop her head with a million flyaways.

And yet the ethereal quality of an angel still hung around her in the Force, even if she looked just like any other college girl in the galaxy.

“Be careful, I never healed a spine before, and those are complicated,” Kamlin said.

“I will be, thank you. You did a good job, I think.” Jacen glanced around the room, filled with questions. Perhaps the dehydration and almost dying in the Valley of the Sith had affected him more than he would have thought, because he blurted them all out in a barely-coherent stand of questions. “Where am I? How long have I been here? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Kamlin blinked and tilted her head to the side, considering Jacen and his questions for a moment. “We’re on my spaceship, _Eternity_. It’s parked where it usually is, on the dark side of Vox, the moon of Korriban’s that can’t sustain life.”

“But I heard what happened to you, you were kidnapped—“

Kamlin bit her lip and looked down to the pattern of the massive crimson rug covering the steel floors. She then slowly shook her head. “That’s not exactly what happened.”

“What about your family—do they know you’re alive?”

She looked up abruptly, dark brown eyes widening in a moment of panic before she blinked and her eyes darted to a lamp with a soft orange glow. “They know I’m here. They transfer credits for fuel and food.”

Jacen frowned. “But the University told them you’re dead, they said you died—“

Her face darkened as she reached out to lightly touch the lantern. “I’m sure they’d prefer that.”

Her tone indicated that the subject was closed. . . For now. Jacen glanced back down at the patch of white linen in his tunic. “You saved my life.”

“Twice now.” A flicker of humor passed over her face, the corners of her mouth briefly turning upwards. “You need to stop throwing yourselves into fights like those.”

“Can’t help it.” Jacen swung his legs out and his boots hit the floor. “I have to do what I can to help the archaeologists, and to stop those guys. I’m a Jedi.”

The humor dissipated, and Jacen could feel panic, fear, and a peculiar sense of self-loathing radiate from Kamlin in a split second of chaotic turmoil, only to be silenced completely.

Jacen did a double-take, and gently probed forward with the Force. He could not detect Kamlin’s presence in front of him at all, despite her being as clear as day.

He then faked a cough, the time-honored tradition of a Hapan desperate to change the conversation. “Still, thank you.”

“For what?” She seemed confused as she finally looked away from the lantern.

“For saving my life, and for protecting the dig site,” Jacen said. “It’s clear you’ve been fighting the tomb-raiders on your own for some time.”

“It’s nothing.” She tucked a flyaway behind her ear, only for it to pop back out of place again. “They’re always a problem here—although they’ve been worse in the past year. That’s when the ones in the uniforms started showing up.”

“I can imagine.” Jacen reached into the pocket attached to his belt and was pleased to discover that the Eye of the Sun was still there. “The dark energy of places like these, it can draw all sorts of would-be adventurers, profiteers, and worse, those who would do harm with it. Based on their attraction to this,I think I know what kind these raiders are.”

He held it up, and Kamlin stepped tentatively forward.

“I don’t understand, it’s a pretty little rock . . .” She leaned forward, and comprehension dawned on her. “That’s a Jedi artifact, isn’t it? Things like this were often lost— this looks like it dates back to at least the Great Hyperspace War—“

She looked back up at Jacen. “May I?”

She gestured to hold it.

Jacen carefully placed it in the angel’s hand. She held it up to her eye level and squinted as she slowly turned it, taking in every detail.

“To think that things like these had been lost,” Kamlin murmured. “This says so much about the Great Hyperspace War and the ancient Jedi weapons. . . “

She then handed the Eye of the Sun back to Jacen, her fingers brushing against his. She let go quickly, as if he had burned her before folding her arms over her chest.

“You’re lucky that didn’t fall in the wrong hands.”

“It’s not luck.” Jacen placed it in his pocket. “It was you.”

Kamlin seemed unsure of how to respond to that. The moment stretched into an awkward silence as she slowly looked around the room.

“You should rest. I’ll take you back to your ship once night falls on Korriban.”

Jacen nodded, not knowing what to say. He waited for Kamlin to leave, and then for her footsteps to disappear. Then he pulled on his jacket, took his lightsaber, and headed into the corridor of the _Eternity_.

The rooms were covered in decorative wall-hangings and rugs, and Jacen got the sense that this ship had been Kamlin’s home for the entire year she had been missing. He wandered through the galley and into what was obviously Kamlin’s room. He was about to turn around an leave that alone when he caught sight of the two lightsabers sitting on a shelf.

As soon as he laid eyes on the lightsabers, he faintly heard screaming, smelled blood, felt fear and terror radiating from the crystals within. These were cries of darkness he couldn’t ignore.

He glanced over his shoulder—he couldn’t see her

He then turned on the lightsabers. Two red blades shimmered into existence. Jacen felt his chest tighten, and his hands shook as he fumbled for the off-switches. He had to get out of here, now—

“I found those in one of the temples, you know.”

He jumped and whirled around to see Kamlin standing in the doorway. With a flick of her wrist, the two lightsabers came to her belt, clipping themselves on cleanly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“You know, it’s rude to go into a lady’s bedroom like this.”

“I thought those lightsabers. . . I could tell they were suffering.”

Kamlin bit her lip. “I haven’t figured out yet how to heal them. Or I would. I don’t like it either.”

Jacen had at least a million more questions to ask, each of them fighting to be the first he asked. But he’d never know which, for then the _Eternity_ violently rocked, causing Kamlin to trip into his arms as the sirens went off and the rumble came, seconds-late with the smell of smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kamlin’s spaceship is actually named after the word that Kai needs to spell with the mirror pieces in the fairytale “The Snow Queen” to win a pair of ice skates and be free of the titular antagonist.


	9. Firestorm

“Fark,” Kamlin repeated to herself in the darkness as she pushed herself out of Jacen’s arms and propelled herself to a bag with a clunky older datapad inside. “They got the fuel tank—they don’t want us leaving here!”

“They?” Jacen asked. “Who is ‘they?’”

“Who else?” Kamlin shoved the datapad back into her bag and randomly threw items into the thick canvas bag before kneeling down to lace her boots. “It’s our friends, the tomb-raiders. They finally found this ship—must’ve tracked it when I took you, I should’ve went to some other remote space station before returning here—“

“We can take them,” Jacen declared, grabbing his lightsaber.

Kamlin raised her eyebrows as she rose to her feet—she was a solid head shorter than Jacen, far shorter than Reza, and yet she was somehow just as imposing. “Brave words for someone who got wrecked the last time you fought them. And the time before that—“

“Okay, so maybe that isn’t a good plan.” Jacen reached for the back of his neck. “What’s your plan, then, if they got the fuel tank?”

“The escape pods, obviously.” Kamlin tugged on a cord around her neck, the end of which was buried beneath her shirt. She then took Jacen’s hand. “Come on, we need to get to the surface before they realize we’re gone.”

Before he could even so much as agree, she tugged him along, racing down the metallic corridors, their boots ringing out in a rhythm to Jacen’s own heartbeat as the sirens cried out and the lights flashed red, otherwise plunging them into darkness every few seconds.

Still, he was grateful that Kamlin knew her ship as well as she did. The flashing lights, the rocking of the ship from further shots meant to deplete the shields, and not knowing the ship in general made it disorienting to Jacen. All he could do was really follow Kamlin along.

“Here we are.” She entered a room with lighting that was stable, albeit red. As Jacen took a moment to get his bearings, she locked the door behind them and cut through the keypad with her lightsaber.

“That should hold them off for a second.” She clipped the lightsaber back onto her belt, and grabbed two oxygen masks and small canisters off of the wall, tossing one to Jacen.

“What’s this for?” He asked as he caught it and placed the canister in one of the deep pockets along the side of his trousers.

“The escape pod’s pretty small,” Kamlin said, pointing at the long rectangular box. “We just need to get to Korriban’s surface, but I’d like to make sure we have enough air to get there.”

“Will we need to pilot it?” Jacen asked.

Kamlin shook her head, placing the gas mask over her face so her voice was now muffled. “The gravity of the planet will suck it in quickly.”

“Thank the Goddess for that.” Jacen put his mask on and stared at the pod for a moment. It was only slightly bigger than the one for the _Millennium Falcon._

“Come on.” Kamlin opened the escape pod. “I don’t like this, either, but we’re going to have to get close to survive.”

“Right.”

As they both crawled into the glorified metal coffin and closed the lid, Jacen was reminded of Crseih once more.

* * *

_“Quick, in here.”_

_Reza held open the vent flap. Without a moment to lose, Jacen crawled inside, Reza was quick to follow. He pulled her over himself, to get her out of the light and away from where Waru or Luke might see them. Their bodies were close together, breaths mingled as they waited for the two of them to leave the room, shutting the lights off._

_“That was close,” Jacen muttered._

_“Still was,” Reza said, looking at Jacen meaningfully._

_He realized he had been still holding onto her waist. He quickly let go, missing the disappointment on Reza’s face._

_“They’re going to keep looking for us, they know that we know now,” Jacen said. “And we talked to Allana—but we can’t wait for her. Something’s really wrong about this place, and Waru and the administrator. . . “_

_“We need to stop them,” Reza agreed, her big brown eyes focused on him. “Luke’s not going to do it, or the other Jedi. They’re all under his spell.”_

_“I know.”Jacen didn’t like the odds. “I need to break into Waru’s chambers—that’s going to be where I can find out the truth—or fight him if it comes to that—“_

_Reza raised an eyebrow. “‘I?’ I think you forget that we work better as a team, Jacen.”_

_“It’s too dangerous, someone needs to be the designated survivor, and I designate you,” Jacen said. “I care about you too much. My life doesn’t mean that much.”_

_“You’re a prince, you idiot.”_

_“That’s really not much in Hapes,” he said. “And I mean it— Reza, let me go alone. I don’t think I could stand it, if something happened to you, I—“_

_He stopped just short of saying the words he knew would never be requited._

_“You_ are _a fool, Jacen Solo Djo.”_

_Before he could respond or argue, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a kiss._

* * *

He would remember and treasure that kiss forever. And he couldn’t help but think of it in the dark metal box as they hurled towards Korriban, his arms wrapped around another young woman—

But she wasn’t Reza and this wasn’t Crseih.

That reality came in with the rattling of the metal surrounding them. Juxtaposed with the cold of space before, the escape pod now was heating up as flames streaked the the transparisteel as they hurled toward the Valley of the Sith. In spite of themselves, he and Kamlin found themselves holding on more tightly to each other as they fell, faster and faster—

Jacen screwed his eyes shut seconds before the impact, when all went black. 

He opened them again to Kamlin standing over him, shaking his shoulder. She had thrown her bag over her shoulder and tossed her mask several feet away. Relief dawned on her face as he squinted at her. 

“Come on, we’ve gotta go—“

Her statement was punctuated with an explosion in the sky. All his nerves jolted awake as he sprang out of the box, ditching the mask and the canister as he took Kamlin’s hand and started running through the Valley of the Sith. He could hear the roar of the industrial ships used by the university as archaeologists in the distance fled to them, packing up tents and materials. 

Jacen glanced up in the sky—a bucket of rusty bolts for a ship was following them. It didn’t take any ability to sense with the Force to know that this was the ship that had shot the _Eternity._ Indeed, the sigil Jacen had seen on the ring of one of the tomb-raiders was sprayed in white paint on one wing.

Jacen’s eyes were drawn away from it by a bolt it fired that landed in the sand several feet in front of Jacen, shaking the sand. He quickly adjusted his path, pulling himself and Kamlin away from the danger as they hurried to the edge of the Valley. Their footfalls grew heavier, staggering on the looser layers of sand that were not so compacted by foot travel. As they drew closer to the last of the great pyramids, Jacen felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He thrust his hand out, redirecting the blaster bolt to the side, where it raised a cloud of sand and dust and fire.

Kamlin tugged him away, to where the ships were waiting. The medic student was standing at the open hangar bay of the last of the ships, waving in the final students. He then looked up to see Jacen and Kamlin making a break for the _Thunder Wraith_. His jaw dropped, his eyes meeting Jacen’s and Kamlin’s. Slowly, he raised a commlink to his mouth as the hangar bay doors closed over him. 

The ships lifted off just as Jacen and Kamlin made it to the loading ramp of the _Thunder Wraith._ Without hesitation, they closed the doors behind them and rushed into the cockpit, which sprang to life as soon as Jacen sat in the pilot’s chair. 

“Take the co-pilot’s seat,” Jacen ordered. “That joystick controls the gun turrets, press this to fire.”

Kamlin let out a low whistle of appreciation as she tossed her bag to the side and strapped herself into the seat. “Never got to play with Hapan tech before.”

Jacen said nothing, strapping himself in and starting the liftoff sequence. He punched in the coordinates for hyperspace— he just had to get clear of the atmosphere, and they could leave for Hapan space. Then he saw the archaeologists’ ships from the corner of his eye. 

They had to escort the archaeological ships out.

Jacen sucked in a deep breath, and accelerated the _Wraith_ off of the dunes, releasing a kickback that slammed his and Kamlin’s heads against the backs of their chairs.

He then jerked the _Wraith_ into a loop around the archaeological fleet as they slowly began to accelerate with their clunky civilian ships. Before he could shout for Kamlin to fire, she did so— missing only by a narrow margin, as if she were an extension of Jacen’s own body.

He then did a barrel roll, diving close to the dunes as the raiders’ ship fired back at them, and looped back to protect the civilians as they approached the darker part of the sky, the glimmer of the stars peeping through Korriban’s thick atmosphere. 

The archaeological fleet then turned to blue streaks, jumping into hyperspace. Now it was time for the Thunder Wraith to join them. Jacen slammed down the switch to jump to hyperspace, to the coordinates for Per’Agthra.

He fell back against his seat and let out a sigh of relief as he undid his restraints.

An exhilarated smile was on Kamlin’s face as she did the same. Jacen then realized that he too was smiling. He was his mother’s son, someone who took joy in battle and starfights.

Still, it faded with the adrenaline as he realized what just happened.

“Why did they attack us?” He asked. “Just because we’re their enemies—“

“Well. . . “ Kamlin pulled on the cord around her neck, revealing a glowing blue stone. “That, and this thing. I took it from Janton Belos’s tomb a long time ago. Seems it’s popular, for some reason or another. That’s what they were looking for when they first came to the Valley.”

“Do you know what it is?” Jacen asked.

“I wish.” Kamlin sighed. Her eyes widened. “Where am I supposed to go now? With the Eternity gone. . . “

“You can stay at the Fountain Palace,” Jacen assured her. “I’m guessing you’ll want to go home—“

Kamlin frantically shook her head. “That’s not an option.”

“But I thought your parents knew you were alive—“

“And I told you, I’m as good as dead to them, anyway.”

She then got up. “I’m going to go explore.”

Jacen turned his head to watch her disappear. The Angel of the Dunes was a deeper part of this mystery somehow, he knew it. But how did she fit into all of this?

”We’ll take care of you, then,” Jacen promised.

He had heard once from Luke about echoes in the Force, instances in time that repeated over and over again to the rhythm of the Force and life itself. Jacen for the first time felt those echoes, ringing out from the Valley of the Sith five years go. Another promise to another girl— but could he keep it this time?


	10. Heart of the Guardian

It was the height of a Hapan autumn afternoon when the _Thunder Wraith_ touched down in the Royal Hangar. Jacen and Kamlin exited to see Allana and her ladies-in-waiting crowded right outside the landing zone. Jacen supposed that if he had spent his teenage years in Hapes, he would have gotten a group of chamberlains similar to the ladies-in-waiting to help him get prepared or the ridiculous events and the like.

The thought made Jacen shudder. He was far too independent, far too lonesome for such things. He vastly preferred the camaraderie of the Jedi and his cohort—even if they weren’t as close as they once were.

He noticed that since Allana’s marriage, however, the ladies-in-waiting had grown more independent, as they were not needed all the time for the Chume’da’s sake anymore. This was even reflected in their clothes and dress—they had grown more distinct from each other than they used to be.

Jacen’s thoughts on Hapan dress were interrupted however as his sister stepped forward in a violet gown with white puffy sleeves that made her resemble the prototypical princess.

“We’re glad to see that you got here alright,” Allana said. “I’ll admit, when I received your transmission, I was worried. You seem to have a knack for getting yourself in trouble.”

Jacen found himself grinning, tapping into a shield cast from bravado and chutzpah he’d inherited from Han Solo. “I might have a knack for getting in trouble, but you have to admit, I’m just as good at getting out of trouble.”

Allana raised a sharply-defined arched eyebrow. “Like in Crseih? I recall I had to come rescue you because you explicitly couldn’t get out of the mess you kept saying you could handle on your own—“

“If I remember correctly, I then had to save you from the golden interdimensional goop monster,” Jacen retorted.

Allana had opened her mouth to fire back some argument when Norinde placed a hand on the Chume’da’s shoulder.

“Perhaps Your Graces would do better to avoid arguing over who has saved who, and instead introduce us to His Grace’s new friend?” Norinde offered, looking to Kamlin. “I do not believe we’ve met this Jedi friend.”

Jacen felt the spike of panic from Kamlin, even if she smiled and otherwise didn’t look perturbed by being called that. “Not a Jedi, I’m afraid. But I guess I do know the Force— is that the right word for it?”

“It depends on how you use it.” Allana folded her hands, now looking saintlike and benevolent. “I have a feeling this is Kamlin Castalia, is it not?”

Kamlin’s cheeks went red. “Does everyone in the galaxy know my name? I didn’t think I was that big of a deal.”

“Not everyone knows— but I try to know who saves my little brother’s life.” Allana’s grin widened. “I understand you’ve saved him twice now. The House of Djo thanks you.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re both royalty—do I bow? I mean, I’d curtsy, but coveralls—“ For emphasis, she tugged at the oil-stained olive fabric as she trailed off.

“A curtsy would be fine in the future.” Jacen knew the twinkle in his sister’s eye—she was struggling not to laugh.

Perhaps Kamlin drawing attention to her clothes was what caused Allana to pay attention, because then Jacen watched as Allana’s brown eyes widened, locking onto the crystal hanging from around Kamlin’s neck.

“I know that crystal,” Allana murmured. She glanced around the hangar. “We can continue this conversation in my apartments.”

Kamlin looked to Jacen inquisitively.

He leaned down and nodded towards one of the more obvious spy droid cameras in the hangar bay. Kamlin squinted up for a moment, her coffee-dark eyes widening when she spotted the camera. She looked back to Jacen, obviously perturbed. He just nodded.

_At least somebody understands what I mean when I say Hapes is a nightmare world._

So many people with supposedly level heads on their shoulders were fooled by the beauty and glamour. So many people couldn’t understand the evil that lurked just beneath the surface.

Allana turned to start walking out of the hangar, and Basileia gently took Kamlin by the arm, letting her hide between handmaidens. Siriel slowed to the back to walk beside Jacen. He smiled politely at her, grateful that she would probably keep any of the other Hapan noblewomen away from him.

Or at the very least, she could redirect their affections to herself, since she had become one of the biggest flirts within the court, a position that had been previously held by Amaya before she and Tristran had gotten together.

* * *

Allana’s apartments had changed in decor and setup since her marriage, the lounge becoming a far more open space. Sitting on one of the plush couches, sipping tea and reading a tablet about Jedi lore, was none other than Sansin Koriss.

“So, your brother has come back—and with someone new, someone unaffiliated.” He hadn’t looked up to speak.

“Um, hi, I guess,” Kamlin gave a tiny finger wave as the ladies-in-waiting then turned around and left, knowing by now to leave Force matters be. Kamlin looked to Jacen and mouthed, _Who’s this guy?_

Jacen bit his lip as he looked to Sansin, who had finally set the datapad down, now that Allana was sitting next to him. It was positively putrefying—Allana looked at Sansin the same way Rey looked at their father.

“Kamlin, this is my brother-in-law, Sansin Koriss,” Jacen said. “He used to be a Sith ghost. Sansin, this is Kamlin Castalia, she’s a guardian of the Valley of the Sith. We thought she was dead, too.”

Sansin sat up straighter, staring at Kamlin for a moment before frowning. “Where did you get that crystal?”

“This?” Kamlin covered the crystal in her fist. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because my master held that item in life,” Sansin said. He then looked to Allana. “And I think you know just as well as I do that this item has had a long and bloody history in the conflict between the Sith and the Jedi Order.”

“What is it?” Jacen blurted out. “I’m not an archaeologist, guys, I have no idea what this thing is—“

“I would have thought Luke would have told you of this particular legend.” Sansin frowned. “The Heart of the Guardian has quite a few legends on both sides surrounding it.”

“But what is it?” Jacen prompted, even though he could feel irritation radiating off of the ex-Sith ghost.

“It’s a special kyber crystal imbued with special powers,” Allana finally said. “There are a lot of stories around it, as we’ve previously said, and it often plays a role in the founding stories of both the Jedi and the Sith.”

She then looked back to Sansin. “I didn’t realize Valik Kodank ever had it.”

“She briefly did, before I died,” Sansin said. “It wasn’t very long. I can’t imagine how it ended up elsewhere. What I can imagine are there are many reasons that these tomb-raiders would want this crystal. But tell me— Kamlin, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me, where did you retrieve this crystal?” Sansin leaned forward as he spoke.

Kamlin blinked. Her eyes were staring off at a point in the room as she absently rolled the crystal between her fingers. But she wasn’t really seeing anything that was here, Jacen could tell that much.

“It was during the second month I was at the dig site,” Kamlin murmured. “I remember we were excavating the tomb of a minor Sith Lord— we liked finding those ones more because they were less likely to be disturbed and gave us a lot of insight into the ancient Sith hierarchies. We were digging through a wall that had collapsed and blocked off a chamber when—. “

She stared off into space for several minutes.

“Kamlin.” Jacen spoke gently.

She blinked and looked back to him like she had seen a ghost. “Sorry.”

She looked back to Sansin. “We accidentally hit a decorative vase of some sort and inside was the crystal—it reacted, causing this explosion of energy. I remember diving towards it to protect the rest of the group, to contain the explosion with my body.. . . “

“That’s enough.” Sansin’s voice was empathetic but firm. “I believe I understand now. I suppose the crystal must have been stolen back by the main Sith Empire sometime after my death.”

“What do we do now?” Kamlin asked. “I don’t think this is just smuggling business.”

“No, clearly,there’s some kind of evil Sith plan here,” Jacen agreed. “We tried tracking them, but the signal was scrambled. There weren’t any marks on their clothes, except for that one ring—“

“A ring?” Sansin’s quiet, low tones cut through Jacen’s thoughts like a lightsaber. “Can you produce a sketch for me, please?”

He opened a flimsi and leather notebook and an old-fashioned quill from a pocket hidden in his tunic, and passed them to Jacen via the table.

“I was never really good at drawing things, but I’ll give it a shot,” Jacen said. He sketched the general shape of the mark on the ring. “This was it. It was on a ring on one of the guys’ hands, and I guess they painted it on one of their ships, too.”

Sansin and Allana looked at the sketch, then at each other, seeming to communicate without words.

“We’ll start researching this, right away,” Allana promised. “This is a breakthrough— thank you, Jaysa.”

He blushed at his childhood nickname. “Anytime.”

“What should I do, until then?”

Everyone looked back to Kamlin, who looked rather small and vulnerable.

“You’ll stay as a guest of the House of Djo,” Allana promised. “We’ll get you some clothes, and you can stay here while we work on the tomb-raiders problem.”

“And after that?”

“We’ll have to see.”

Jacen lightly touched her arm. “There’s also room in the Jedi Order, for you. Uncle Luke takes on adult students all the time. He could teach you how to use even more of your powers.”

She said nothing, instead looking to the crystal as she held it in her hand. But she didn’t shy away from Jacen at all, and instead seemed to lean into his touch.


	11. Stars in the Southern Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for a snakebite in the last paragraph of the chapter. Also, if you don’t like parents and children arguing, just skip down to the paragraph break.

Jacen stepped into the cool night air on the balcony outside of the Queen Mother’s chambers. Like with the Chume’da’s suite, the balcony was invisible from below in the court gardens, or indeed from any of the lower rooms within the Fountain Palace.

His mother’s back was turned to him as she leaned against the railing. She had removed the tiara that resembled stars, the shimmering over skirt with diamonds, and the cloak and mantle in red, violet, and blue that gave way to a cloak that she had worn earlier in the day. Her hair tumbled around her in frizzy waves, the last of the hair gel having worn out and a million flyaways now made their escape. Instead, Rey was barefoot and devoid of all jewelry except for three rings and she only wore the indigo silk kirtle that had gone beneath her gown.

This was the woman Jacen recognized as his mother, not the Queen Mother in all her shining finery. As he grew up, he saw this side of her less and less, but he could never forget that once, his mother had been quite like him. On her way to becoming a Jedi, gritty and rough and warm. Everything a Hapan wasn’t.

A part of him wondered what she would have been like, as a mother, if she had never found Hapes, and instead stayed a Jedi and a member of the Resistance.

Well, he couldn’t just say it like that. After all, he likely have never been born if his mother had never found her home family. For what he knew of his father, and what he had been like then, there was no way Kylo Ren would have ever loved Rey of Jakku then.

He straightened his posture and dismissed the thoughts. There was no use speculating on a time long past.

“You requested I come see you, Amilye?”

She turned and smiled—her face was free of makeup, revealing her true age, as much as it could on a Hapan woman. “That’s right. I know we haven’t gotten a chance to chat since you came back from Korriban the first time.”

“Right.” Jacen approached the railing, taking his place beside his mother. He scanned the gardens below. No one was out, except for the occasional lover or servant dallying now that night had come.

Rey’s tone sobered. “I felt your life force waning on Korriban, you know. I wanted to leave the treaties and ambassadors and come right then— I don’t think I could stand it if you were to die—- especially in a place like that.”

A place like Jakku.

“I knew I’d be alright,” Jacen lied. “The Force looks out for fools, you know.”

Rey gave an unladylike snort. “That’s not how the Force works. It doesn’t really look out for anyone—except the galaxy at large, I suppose. But who really knows? After all, the dark is as much a part of the Force as the dark is.”

“I’d agree to disagree.” Jacen shrugged. “I mean, look at the Solos.”

“You are a Solo.”

“I know what I said.” Jacen looked away from his mother. “Besides, as far as most are concerned, I’m just a Djo. Even though I keep trying to get the Solo name to stick.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t started going by Skywalker, as a Jedi Knight,” Rey teased. Yet there was an underlying bitterness there. “With how you look up to Luke and the Jedi. . . “

“I mean, it would make it more obvious that I’m Luke’s nephew, but I don’t think all the nepotism accusations would make it that much better.” Jacen had to deflect, to get his mother off this road—

“I must confess, I can’t say that I understand the path you have taken, even if I do support it.” All teasing and humor had abandoned Rey’s countenance.

“You were almost a Jedi,” Jacen reminded her. “Don’t you remember how it felt? The purpose—-the feeling that you were on the right path, that you were doing so much good?”

“Not really.” Rey’s finger trailed to the lightsaber clipped to the hidden pocket in her kirtle. She pulled out the long silver hilt, that Jacen knew was a saberstaff. “I knew being with the Resistance was right, and at the time it was my duty to become one of the last Jedi. But it never felt right for me. I had too much anger, too much fire for it.”

She looked up from the lightsaber. “And the Jedi have such a limited view of the Force, compared to others.”

“Like the Sith?” Jacen couldn’t help but snark.

“Like the Witches of Dathomir—and others,” Rey said. “It was only when I learned the way of my mother’s people that I truly knew where I fit within the Force.”

“I can’t fit in there.” Jacen couldn’t help the irritation creeping into his voice. “They keep their men from using the Force. . .”

And yet somehow, in the Valley of the Sith, with the green lights, he had done Dathomiri magic—a talent that neither Allana nor Breha had displayed.

Rey let out an exasperated sigh. “I know. . . I just wonder if you would be happier, somewhere in the gray, like your sister. You’re just. . . You’ve never had an easy destiny, and I wonder how much of that is the pressure the Jedi put on their members.”

“I didn’t have a purpose or a place before I found the Jedi.” Jacen forced himself to stay calm, despite his racing heart. “I’m making a real difference in the galaxy— more than I would have made here. You know that I have no place here, in this story. But I can do so much more.”

“We’re doing important work here, too.” Jacen recognized the impatience and the anger rising in his mother’s voice— he had touched a nerve, he realized too late. “We cannot just do things through brute force and winning wars and slaughtering bad people. There had to be another way, and that is what we do here, in Per’Agthra, in Hapes.”

“I never said you weren’t.” Jacen bit his lip. “And I appreciate all you have given me, throughout the years, _Amilye_. But I don’t belong here. I’m too much my father’s son.”

Rey calmed. “You’re too much like me, too. Or at least, how I used to be.”

She sighed again. “I guess what I wonder is how you can trust Luke, knowing what he has done.”

Ah, so that was the root of this all. It was strange to Jacen, that it could be such a simple problem.

Before he had gone away to Jedi school, he had known. He had known the full story as far back as he could remember, he had always known the truth about what his father was.

And so, too, he knew the truth about Luke’s weakest moment.

“The same way I trust and love my father, even considering all he has done.” Jacen had intended the statement to come out nonchalant and yet earnest. However, his mother’s reaction told him quite the opposite.

She always had a weak spot when it came to his father.

Her face darkened. “You know that your father has paid for his past. And he has changed.”

“And so has Uncle Luke.” Jacen’s voice was cold and brittle—he wasn’t going to avoid a fight anymore. “I know he shattered your faith in the Jedi and everything. And yet it’s just one more for the sins of this entire _kriffing_ family!”

He blinked, then standing to attention in the military fashion—as he felt his father’s presence behind him.

“I would choose your words more carefully around your mother,” Kylo growled. “It’s time for us all to retire. Leave. _Now_.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Jacen spat, brushing past his father on the way out. He ignored Anakin watching him with worry from the open door of the playroom, he ignored the worried looks from the Chume’doro as he slammed the door to the Queen Mother’s suite shut behind him.

He rushed through the hallways, generating a dark aura in the Force like a rotating storm around himself. Not even the noblewomen bothered him on his way back to his suite.

It was when he entered his sitting room that he encountered a servant wringing her hands.

“Your Grace, I apologize, I must ask for some assistance immediately!”

Jacen forced himself to close his eyes, and take a deep breath, and force some sort of pleasantness into his voice. Somehow he even managed to smile politely.

“Yes, Savara, what can I do for you?”

“I was caring for your crystal snake, Your Grace, and I thought he was sleeping in his terrarium, but he didn’t appear, and I saw him in the rooms and then—“

“It’s alright,” Jacen assured her. “I’ll go catch Synthstone. I’m sorry, he can be rather tricky even in old age. Please, take these for your trouble.”

He handed her a few credits, even if she technically earned a generous salary from the Royal Treasury. He couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the servants who had once put up with his feral menagerie. It was the least he could do to make up for that.

He started to reach out with the Force, and raised his eyebrows. The snake had somehow made it all the way to the courtyard gardens undetected.

_Oh well._

* * *

Synthstone had somehow made it deep into the gardens. This part was more of a work-in-progress, with mostly just open field and a few trees with decorative fruits, and only a few other features like the bench swing hanging from the sturdiest, oldest, and ugliest tree.

Jacen knelt down in the grass, starting to feel around and try to spot the snake.

“Come on, Synthstone, you’ve had your fun. Come on, this isn’t funny.”

“What’s going on?”

Jacen jumped and whirled around to see Kamlin right behind him, standing barefoot in the grass, otherwise wearing the same clothes as before.

“I didn’t see you,” he muttered. “No shoes, then?”

“Can’t say I care for them much, except for a good pair of boots,” Kamlin laughed. “Even then, I’ve gotta break them in before they’re comfortable enough. And I like to go barefoot every chance I get.”

“I see.” Jacen spotted the glimmer of crystal in the grass—but he didn’t want to arise a panic.

“It’s the best in hyperspace, you can feel the ship, you can feel the pulse of the galaxy.” Kamlin sighed. “I guess that was the Force, though, all along, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.”Jacen squinted—he’d lost track of the snake.

“Hey, are you okay, you’re acting funny—“

She cried out, as Synthstone appeared, just in time to bite her ankle. Then she fell to the ground, completely unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song title is from “Seven Bridges Road” an amazing song that you should give a try if you haven’t. It was one of the inspirations for the fic in general.


	12. Dearly Beloved

“Synthstone!” Jacen scolded as he scooped the snake up and put him in the pocket of his cloak. “We don’t bite! Come on, we might as well help her to to the bench.”

He was surprised at how easily he was able to lift Kamlin into his arms. He carried her over to the swinging bench. With a canopy made of a transparent material that had fractures shaped like flowers in it, the rustic image of a bench was the furthest thing from one’s mind. It was a tiny little alcove for lovers, as everything seemed to be in Hapes. He had never been to this part with Reza, over the many times she came home with him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a light groan from Kamlin. He turned to see her eyes open.

“Jacen—- wh—“ She winced and looked down to her ankle. “Did something bite me?”

“This little guy, I’m afraid.” Jacen placed his hand in his pocket. Synthstone slithered around his wrist, content to be a shiny bracelet.

Kamlin immediately sat up to attention, eyes bright and alert. And yet she still reached out toward the snake.

“Does he like being petted? Do you even pet snakes?”

“He likes a little pat on the head.”

Kamlin frowned, reaching out to pat Synthstone’s head with her fingertips. She flinched, recoiling when she made contact with the scales. But then she tried again, slowly petting the top of Synthstone’s head. The crystal snake responded by sticking its forked tongue out.

“He likes you,” Jacen said.

“I’m not the biggest fan of snakes,” Kamlin admitted. “There were always a few in my tent on Korriban, and I remember the ones on my homeworld. . . “

She trailed off. Jacen decided to put Synthstone back in his pocket, allowing the snake to rest. He was certainly getting on in years. He sat next to Kamlin.

“Sorry about him, by the way,” Jacen added. “He got loose, he turns invisible, and then gets easily spooked. Don’t worry, he can only really knock you unconscious, for like, an hour at most.”

“That’s better than the kind I’m used to seeing.” Kamlin tucked a particularly long flyaway strand behind her ear.

“It’s okay, no one really likes my weird pets,” Jacen admitted. “Used to have a lot more, as a kid, an entire menagerie. They’re mostly gone now. Even Reza didn’t like them. . . “

He hadn’t realized until it was out that he’d referred to Reza in the past-tense. Why would he do that? She was out there, she had to be, he had to find her somewhere, someday. . .

“You said that name, when you were unconscious. Reza?”

Kamlin’s question hung in the area, forming a wall between him and the angel.

“Reza. . . Reza was— is— my sweetheart.” Jacen exhaled sharply, a little cloud forming in the cooling night air. “We were both Uncle Luke’s apprentices at the same time. She went missing, about a year ago. Just disappeared, shortly after we were made Jedi Knights. I’d hoped that when I went to Korriban that I might find her. And I think I still hope that the tomb-raiders have something to do with her disappearance.”

“Why?” Kamlin’s brow furrowed. “That can’t mean good things.”

“Because it means there’s an answer, a lead—and that’s more than I’ve been able to find.” Jacen sighed. “I found her there, dying in the Valley of the Sith five years ago. I promised her then that I’d take care of her. And I failed.”

“Do you think there’s a possibility that she doesn’t want to be found?” Kamlin tilted her head to the side.

“No,” Jacen said immediately. Then he hesitated. “At least. . . I don’t think so. I don’t know. She was acting so strange, before she disappeared. But she’d never want to go back to the kind of past she had, she never would.”

“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think.” Kamlin turned away from him, and Jacen wondered if she was speaking more about herself than she was Reza.

“Then she didn’t, either.”

The two of them sat in the autumnal air, quiet for a moment. Jacen reached in a different pocket for a holoprojector that had been a Life Day gift a few years prior. He turned it on to see a holo of Reza, smiling—- he didn’t remember when or where it was taken. But he’d never forget her smile, her dark blonde curls, her warm brown eyes, the way she saw him like no one had.

He couldn’t help but smile back, even if he also wanted to cry.

“Hang on a parsec.”

Jacen looked back to Kamlin—he had forgotten she was there. But there was a spark of recognition in her dark eyes.

“I’ve seen her before,” Kamlin explained. “She was with the tomb-raiders, she was the first to bring that scepter, she took it to the Tomb of Belos.”

Jacen’s spine went cold.

“No,” he said numbly. “That can’t be. That’s not possible. It just isn’t. Must be someone who looks like her or—“

There was sympathy in Kamlin’s face as she shook her head. “No, I can feel it. I’m right. I can feel it in the—-“

_In the Force._

“She’s a Jedi, she would never join the dark side,” Jacen argued, even though he could feel it too. What had happened to Reza, when she disappeared? Had the memories of her past brought back a part of her that was better left buried?

“I’m sorry,” Kamlin said gently. She stood up. “I wish there was an explanation for all of this. But if there is, I don’t know it.”

She started to walk away, only to stop a few paces away from Jacen. “I’d also get a better terrarium for that snake.”

With that, she left Jacen alone in the gardens.

He looked back to the holo of Reza. The girl in the holo seemed more like a ghost now.

Was Kamlin right? How well did he really know Reza, after all? Especially when she didn’t even know herself?

Reluctantly, he got up off of the bench and started back to his chambers.

* * *

_He heard a scream and he was in Crseih again, in the room where the golden mystery man himself was waiting for them._

_“The game’s up,” Jacen declared, igniting his emerald lightsaber. “We know who you are— you’re a Sith Lord, and we’re taking you in.”_

_Waru’s golden eyes glowed as he laughed. “Is that so? I’m afraid you have no idea whom you are truly dealing with!”_

_He stretched his arms and in a flash of golden light, he was gone, the room otherwise plunged into darkness. Whispers of Snoke, of Palpatine, of Plagueis, all echoed through the room along with the synchronous beeping of the station. Shadows clutched at his clothes, yanked his lightsaber from his hand, and grabbed him by the throat._

_**“You are a prince of nothing,”** whispered a voice that carried within it the wilds of Dathomir. **“Not even the masters of the shadows in your bloodline can save you.”**_

_Jacen managed to free himself, and fell onto his back, the darkness cut through with green light._

_He heard a scream once more and turned around to see the golden light, enveloping Reza. But she wasn’t fighting, wasn’t looking at him. She walked into the light, serenely._

_“REZA!”_

_She didn’t turn for her name. Jacen ran after her, and managed to take her by the hand. She whirled around—_

_But it wasn’t Reza standing there. Not exactly. It was a Reza that could have been, a Reza that was a shadow of her mother, who she resembled so strongly, with glowing Sith yellow eyes._

* * *

He woke in a sweat to the beginnings of the dawn. There was no use in going back to sleep. He instead used the hot chocolate-maker that he had put in his room when he first came back from the Praxeum, and sat cross-legged on the floor of the balcony, watching the sun rise over Kira Ka Chume’dan.

He used to do this with Luke. Reza wasn’t an early riser, but he was, and he discovered he had shared his uncle’s affinity for the drink.

How Jacen missed what had once been, and the things he once knew by heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title comes from a lyric from Green Day’s “Jesus of Suburbia”: “Dearly beloved are you listening?”


	13. The Sigil of Belos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for a plot relevant story of a Bluebeard situation with an unwanted marriage. Details are not gone into, but if it makes you uncomfortable, skip the paragraphs from “From what we could find” to “I don’t know what it all means for the raiders.”

The room where they all met in the morning had an entire wall of iridescent stained glass, casting faint rainbows over the marble floors and pools of tranquil waters surrounding the raised marble floors. With column of pearls and fountains with marble and bejeweled sculptures, the whole room was cast afire by the morning sun.

Kylo’s comparatively dark clothes made him stand out in all the color. His jacket was dark and high-collared, with a golden emblem of an arcane sun symbol covering his left shoulder and a golden celestial lace-like detail around the wrists. Jacen knew his father resisted the Hapan flair chamberlains like Moliere kept attempting to foist upon him.

Jacen on the other hand wasn’t opposed to the colors and styles of Hapes—perhaps more toned down, and only when in Hapan space. But still, he had more of a fondness for it than his mother or his father. After all, he didn’t think he could bring it in him to dislike his jacket, teal with puffed sleeves, a high collar to match his father, and black and gold spiralled detailing.

Sansin and Allana, on the other hand, embraced the aesthetics of Hapes with extensive crystal jewelry and headpieces, with attention placed on detailed fabrics and intricate designs. They were coordinated with the flower motifs that were carefully designed as a part of Allana’s future reigning aesthetics.

What surprised Jacen was seeing Kamlin in Hapan styles for the first time. A white and pink floral wrap dress extended to the floor with a layer of gauze an of floral lace over the skirt. The same lace made up the bell-shaped sleeves that went down her mid-calves. Her crystal necklace was more obviously displayed, glowing against her cool skin. Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple and elegant bun; combined with her poise, she greatly resembled dancers at the court.

She stood with her hands clasped behind her back, peering down at the depths of one of the pools a moment.

She looked up as Jacen entered the room, and as she turned, Jacen saw the tip of her scuffed-up boots beneath her dress. He couldn’t help but smile, seeing it.

“Must be a funny sight, seeing me all gussied up like this,” Kamlin said. “It all feels so weird.”

“Well, you look good.” Jacen didn’t know why he said it, but he meant it all the same.

“We should start the meeting.” Kylo stood at the head of a long round table that seemed to be made from opal and obsidian, with black metal chairs with curled spiralled designs. Jacen took the seat at his father’s left, directly across from Allana on the right. While Sansin took the spot next to Allana, Kamlin took a spot next to Jacen, rather than anywhere else on the table.

“I apologize that the Queen Mother was unable to join us.” Kylo sat down. “My own ability to attend any meetings relating to this matter will be likely compromised from this point on as well.”

Jacen frowned. “What’s going on?”

“That’s right, I forget that you are not often planetside, and that you rarely involve yourself in politics.”

Jacen bit his lip, biting back a retort at those little digs.

Allana intervened. “There’s been some tensions between Hapes, the First Order, and a growing faction from Naboo.”

“Allana.” Kylo nodded towards Kamlin. “Perhaps this is a discussion better saved for more private company.”

“Look, I’m right here,” Kamlin complained.

“I apologize, but this matter is far more serious than the usual machinations within Hapes.” Kylo looked to Jacen. “Although I suppose it is no secret that the Amidalans have grown, and that they are pressuring the New Republic and the Consortium to turn against the First Order once more.”

Jacen blinked. “Wait, they want to restart the Second Galactic Civil War? That sounds stupid.”

“There have always been some who are uncomfortable with the First Order’s flag still flying in the sky,” Kamlin said quietly. “There were always some Amidalan protestors at the university.”

“Which is why the Queen Mother and I will be dedicating our utmost attention to this matter in the oncoming days.” Kylo inclined his head. “Therefore, I entrust that you four can handle the matters with the tomb-raiders. It is clear now, given the attack on Korriban and the raid at the University that these are no ordinary raiders, yes?”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re interested in reselling any of the trinkets they stole.” Kamlin shuddered. “You can tell that they know what those artifacts really are. . . I’d hate to see what they do with them.”

“I really don’t like that they have the Scepter of Ragnos,” Sansin said. “Such power could be used to resurrect or to empower followers. . . There is far too much power within that staff for me to sleep well at night knowing that a Sith cult has it yet again.”

“Luckily, thanks to Jacen’s tip-off, we were able to track down the symbol they had on their ships, armor, and that guy’s ring.” Allana booted up her datapad and brought an image of it to the surface. “Our research indicates that it was the symbol of a minor Sith Lord, Janton Belos.”

Kamlin blinked, her eyes going wide for a moment. She reached for the crystal around her neck.

“What do we know about this particular Sith Lord?” Kylo reclined slightly in his chair, as much as the metal allowed. “I admit, I was more of an academic when I was with the Jedi, and Belos is not one of the Sith I have heard of.”

“Well, neither was the Disciples of Kodank,” Sansin reminded him. “I suspect there are many cults like ours that were fragmented from the main line of the Sith and still wait huddled in the darkest corners of the galaxy.”

“Doesn’t that make a guy sleep well at night.” Jacen folded his arms over his chest. “So, have you heard of this guy?”

“Surprisingly, no.” Sansin’s frown deepened— so much so, that for once he resembled the Sith ghost that he once was. “I have seen the symbol, however. My master had a ring with the symbol, but she never mentioned the name.”

“Could she have been a part of some greater cult then?” Allana turned to look at her husband.

Sansin laughed. “I think we both know that she would never willingly work under anyone. No, I have no idea where she fits into any of this.”

“I don’t like the connection,” Jacen said. “The Disciples of Kodank were up to far more dangerous plans than any of us anticipated—and they almost succeeded. I _really_ don’t like this.”

“There is no need to repeat this, none of us like what this means,” Kylo snapped. “Thank you, for your contributions. . . Sansin.”

He always sounded like he was swallowing a tack when he said Sansin’s name. Indeed, there was a mischievous twinkle in Sansin’s eye when he said it.

Kamlin tentatively raised her hand. “I actually think I might know this story, just a little bit— I did some reading and I occasionally stole a peak at what my former team was working on while I was guarding Korriban from the tomb-raiders.”

Jacen noticed a shift in his father, the way Kylo’s features grew more guarded—he was suspicious of Kamlin.

“Please, then, Castalia, elaborate.”

Kamlin, despite all nervousness before, sat up straighter in her chair, meeting Kylo’s gaze head-on, dark eyes blazing and unafraid. Even if Jacen could see her hands curled into white-knuckled fists.

“From what we could find, this is what happened: Janton Belos had a middling administrative position in the Sith Empire before the Great Hyperspace War, and he had considerable power. He at first had a wife and multiple children, but the wife died. We think the wife was a political choice more than a union of any particular feelings, but we were still unsure of that point.”

Kamlin brushed back a strand of her hair that had somehow freed itself from her airtight bun. “She died—we found her tombstone but not any mention in her cause of death from what we could find, but they might have uncovered something else. There were other wives and children of Belos, but it ended when he took a Valik Kodank—- she had been a part of some conquered people and was strong in the Force, or something like that.”

“I think I understand now.” Sansin began to piece it together. “She learned enough of the dark side from her new husband, enough to kill him and escape with her lover—but the taste of the dark side was enough to mold her into what she was.”

“I don’t know what it all means for the raiders,” Kamlin confessed. “But that’s who Belos was, and that’s his connection to Kodank.”

They all sat in silence for a moment, contemplating the significance of this information.

Belos was connected to Kodank— and Reza was somehow involved. Reza, who had seen visions, memories of her life before the Jedi in the weeks before her disappearance. Jacen’s thoughts were whirling—there was a connection here, but his brain refused to put it together.

The silence and Jacen’s thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of Kylo’s commlink.

He sighed, standing up. I’m afraid I must leave for Coruscant soon, to see if a compromise can be reached with the Amidalans.”

“Thank you, _Atta_ , for helping us.” Allana smiled brightly at her father.

It sometimes hurt, seeing how easy Allana interacted with their parents. Yes, things had improved in some respects with Jacen and his father, although they were worsening between him and Rey. Jacen had never been an easy child—-he had too much of his grandfather and great-grandfather in him. He supposed it was his fault that his parents didn’t seem to like him all that much.

Even Breha got along decently with both of them, despite the fact that she spent even less time at home than Jacen did.

A spiteful part of Jacen, a part he didn’t like, wondered if it was because he was a son and not a daughter. Because he wasn’t as valued by the Hapans and the Dathomiri.

“I suppose we should attend to our duties elsewhere.” Sansin stood, offering a hand to Allana.

“Wait— there’s something else.” Jacen hated what he was about to say. “Kamlin saw something— Reza was with the raiders, at least once.”

Allana’s face fell, her eyes filling with sympathy and painful pity. “Jacen, I’m so sorry. I—I’ll see what I can do.”

With that, she and Sansin left, leaving only Jacen and Kamlin together.

“Your dad’s kind of a scary guy,” Kamlin said, letting out a nervous laugh. “I’m glad you’re not so intense.”

“You held your own,” Jacen reminded her.

“Well, for what it’s worth, I really am sorry about your sweetheart,” Kamlin said. “I can’t imagine, what you must be going through.”

“It’s alright,” Jacen said. “Besides, we don’t have all the information yet. So, what do you want to see in this palace? Is there anything we can do to make you feel more welcome here?”

“I’d like a tour of the palace, if you wouldn’t mind giving me one. I almost got lost on my way back to my room last night.”

Jacen grinned. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you skipped that paragraph, basically the warning was Valik Kodank’s villain origin. Poor girl.


	14. Girl in the Tower

“And this is the main ballroom.” Jacen opened the doors, and the lights on the sconces all lit up one by one. “It’s not in use right now, but I thought you might like to see it.”

“Wow,” Kamlin whispered as she stepped forward, onto the pale pink reflective marble floor. Mirrors flanked the wall between white pillars, and the crystal chandelier descended from a mural depicting the founding of Hapes and the monarchy. “I never dreamed of dancing in such a beautiful place.”

She hummed a few bars of a standard dancing tune, one known generally across the galaxy as she twirled and swayed to the rhythm. She then laughed, stumbling back towards Jacen.

“I’m sure I look a real fool, in front of a prince.” Her cheeks turned red.

“Not at all,” Jacen assured her. “Then again, you can test for yourself tonight.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kamlin frowned.

“I think there’s some minor courting dance,” Jacen said. “If you want to dance with the nobles, there’s plenty around our age. A lot of them are at court when a child of the Queen Mother has just come of age.”

“You’re not coming, then?”

“I have no reason to,” Jacen reminded her. “Wherever Reza is now, what she’s doing—I won’t abandon her now. And besides, Hapan noblewomen are generally not my type anyway.”

Kamlin raised her eyebrows. “So the Hapan noblemen are still on the table then, or—“

“They are not my type either,” Jacen said. “Let me elaborate— Hapans are not my type.”

“I thought Hapans were everyone’s type,” Kamlin snorted.

“What can I say, my type can see in the dark,” Jacen joked. “Come on, we still have yet to find where your room is.”

“Kriffing rich Hapans,” Kamlin muttered, shaking her head.

* * *

The end of the tour would come two hours later when they finally found Kamlin’s room and the sun was starting to set in the sky. It was a far better day than he expected. Kamlin, to her credit, was funny and while she had a naive, wide-eyed curiosity towards Hapan beauty, he could tell that she saw through more of it than others had.

It was as pleasant for a day on this Goddess-foresaken planet as he could have hoped for. Besides, none of the noblewomen bothered him, although he and Kamlin had a few nasty glares shot at them from around the corridors

He was ready to go to dinner with the family, then go to his room and meditate, perhaps read a serialized drama on the HoloNet that Yun had recommended to him over the comms system.

So he was displeased, to say the absolute least, when he saw the son of a marchioness standing in his chambers.

“Ah, Your Grace, I was wondering when you would arrive!” Tall, with cool brown skin and dark green eyes like precious stones, he wore a beautiful scarlet jacket that contrasted with his eyes. “I was working on your look for the gala tonight.”

“Not to be blunt, but who are you?” Jacen narrowed his eyes. “I don’t recall needing help getting dressed for dinner before. And what’s this about a gala?”

“Lord Marlowe Silvestre at your service, _Pelin’da_.” He bowed with a flourish of his right hand. “The Queen Mother and her consort have assigned me as your chamberlain tonight. And they have requested you attend the courting gala.”

“Why? I’m not single.”

Marlowe frowned. “I believe your father mentioned something different in his missive to me, Your Grace.”

“He what?”

“And the Chume’da suggested as well that you attend.” Marlowe winced as he said it. “I take it you have a beau that is not approved of?”

“I wasn’t aware that she was not approved of,” Jacen grumbled, the gears turning in his head. Why would they—

_Atta believed that Reza was gone before now, and Allana must believe that she’s beyond saving._

It was more than a little hypocritical, considering her husband and his father’s own history. Jacen was internally fuming. But he knew it was unfair to Marlowe, the poor lad, to take it out on him.

So he forced himself to smile charmingly. “I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. But that can be cleared up later. I do not want you get you in trouble with my father, so let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Oh, good, let’s just do that, yes.” Marlowe coughed politely into his ring-covered fist as he grabbed a datapad off of a small side table. “I was thinking that this would do nicely, it rather fits into your mother’s court aesthetic, and if I may say so, you’d resemble your father greatly. . .”

Jacen frowned. It was an all-black ensemble, with a black high-collared jacket that was quite plain, with matching pants that had silver detailing on it in a celestial pattern. He was also to wear with it a little black capelet with a deep violet lining and diamonds embedded in the fabric.

He would wear a little glittery violet makeup around the eyes, and black lipstick on his upper lip with the scar of Naboo on the bottom.

“I thought it a nice touch to your father’s grandmother’s roots,” Marlowe offered eagerly.

“Thank you, it will do nicely.” Jacen lied with a smile, for he hated resembling his father.

“Let’s get to work then, this cannot just appear!”

* * *

The grand ballroom Jacen had visited earlier that night had been opened for the gala, with small circular tables in clusters close to the walls, allowing for plenty of room for the young nobles to dance, serenaded by the musicians from their balconies on the second and third floors of the ballroom.

As the prince and child of the Queen Mother, and apparently an eligible bachelor in Hapes, Jacen smiled politely and danced with as many nobles that asked—mostly women, but a few bold young men as well.

But the whole time, all Jacen could think was that he was supposed to be dancing with someone else.

With a flute of Hapan gold, he finally found his out and escaped to the gilded turret outside. He slammed back the flute of gold and set it down on the railing, gripping it as he leaned over, trying to catch his breath. He sighed,letting himself unclench.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

He turned to the teasing voice, and nearly dropped his jaw.

Kamlin stood there, a vision in a blue Hapan gown. It was powder blue, withshort puffy sleeves off the shoulder.

The neckline was covered in pink-tinged pearls, with a pale gold bow in the middle of the sweetheart neckline and in the middle of her sleeves which were rimmed with lace patterned after star maps of Hapes.

The princess seams in the bodice accentuated her figure, lined with gold trim, the same trim that covered the seam at the waistline.

Her skirts were voluminous, with a golden design of a flower-like sunburst patterned all over, with a few pale gold bows around the beginning of her calves From there, the rest of the skirt were covered with more of that off-white lace. Petticoats in pale pink gauze peeked out from beneath, mostly covering her bare feet.

Kamlin wore it well, with her dark hair styled with two buns atop her head and most of her hair left flowing and curled, with more pearls strung through. She had even received a little Hapan makeup in the form of blue and pink eyeshadow, overzealous blush, and glossy pink lips. She was almost unrecognizable, if not for her signature in the Force, and her bare feet peeking out from under the skirts.

“I can’t believe it either,” Kamlin said, smiling. “Your sister lent me the dress.”

Jacen frowned. “Which sister?”

“Breha, she was giggling the entire time she helped me get ready,” Kamlin said. “I’m sure it’s because of how ridiculous I look. I mean, not as ridiculous as you do in that makeup, but—“

“You look good in it,” Jacen said. “I’m sure plenty of noblemen have asked you to dance already, in it.”’

“Not really.” Kamlin kicked lightly in the ground. “I mean, why would they with all the other girls here?”

“I’ll dance with you,” Jacen offered, holding out a hand. “To give you to experience,I mean.”

“Well, I guess you can’t say no to a prince,” Kamlin teased as she placed her hand into his.

Then as the music started, they began to twirl and dance in time to the music. Jacen couldn’t helpbut muse how much it was like fighting, how in sync they were in their movements, in the adrenaline. It had been a long time since he had ever danced, or indeed, had an opportunity to show off the skills he had been forced to develop through countless hours of tutoring. But all the same, he couldn’t help but enjoy it as they whirled around in the chilly darkness, finding a bit of solitude in each other.

When the music ended, Kamlin broke away breathless.

“Wow,” she said. “That was a lot cooler than the holos made it look.”

“Yeah.” Jacen couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked beneath the violet cast of the ninth moon tonight, the way it hung onto her glossy curls, made her light skin glow. . .

Kamlin perched on the railing, kicking her bare feet happily in the air as another song started.

Jacen shook his head slightly—he couldn’t think about this. There was still Reza, there was still the woman he loved out there, even if she was up to something bad.

“So,” he said, racking his mind for a subject. “Will you help us track down this cult?”

“Of course.” She looked at him as if the question were stupid. “I have to. They hurt my friends, and I have a responsibility, don’t I, with the power I have?”

“That’s true. You know, that attitude would make a great Jedi.”

Kamlin bit her lip and looked over her shoulders, at the boiling Creel Sea and the steam it made with the cold night air. “I don’t know about the Jedi. All I do know is that I can’t be like the others with this power who hurt others.”

“That’s what the Jedi is about, though.” Jacen leaned against a pillar set in the railing. “We stop those who would use the Force irresponsibly.”

Kamlin met his gaze again. “Then explain the Jedi like Exar Kun, Ulic Qel-Droma, Revan, Anakin Skywalker—Kylo Ren. They were all Jedi, and they used their powers to hurt people.”

The last name was somehow still a gut punch, even if Jacen had thought about that point all too often.

“They started out on the right path. Sure, some lost their way. But many of them would come back to it again,” Jacen pointed out. “It’s not always linear, our path and connection with the Force.”

“But who’s the collateral, in these journeys?” Something blazed in her eyes. “There are still people who suffer the consequences of their trips down the dark side. There are still people who suffer from the First Order and the Empire. Even if things have changed now, it doesn’t change that a lot of people who have this—this power—they’ve done horrible things with it.”

“I’m not denying that.” Jacen sighed. “I’m one of the first to tell you that my father wasn’t always a good man and that he still struggles with being a good man. He’s a person—a complicated one. Unfortunately, complicated people do a lot of good and evil. And it’s only amplified when it’s on the scale of the Force. But that’s why I’m a Jedi, unlike others in my family. Because I want to avoid their mistakes.”

“But can their mistakes be avoided?” Kamlin’s voice dropped low. “There’s a story I’ve heard—that the Skywalkers are cursed.”

“Maybe we are.” Jacen had wondered the same thing from time to time. “But maybe my fate will be to love someone who’s under her own curse.”

“You mean Reza.”

“I do.” Jacen moved to lean over the bit of railing next to where Kamlin was sitting. “I don’t believe she’s acting of her own accord, if she’s with the raiders. She’s being threatened, or controlled, or something. But I need to save her, whatever’s happened.”

“And you’re sure?”

Jacen hesitated, for only a moment. “Absolutely.”

Kamlin bit her lip. “Then I’ll help you get her back, Jacen. Whatever it takes.”

She then jumped down from the railing. “I’m going to go try some of the food. You want to come with me?”

“Not right now,” Jacen admitted, but he smiled. “You enjoy the party, though. Only the Zeltrons throw better ones.”

Kamlin opened her mouth to speak, but then seemed to think better of that. “Okay then. May the Force be with you, then.”

That left Jacen staring out at the sea by himself. Things were growing more complicated, and he feared that hhis own heart was compromised.


	15. The Round Table

It was late in the morning when Kamlin and Jacen were called to join Allana and Sansin in her parlor. Jacen was surprised to see that they were not alone, however—two of Allana’s ladies-in-waiting were still sitting at the table when the two Force-sensitives arrived.

Jacen looked to from them to Allana questioningly. “I don’t understand—what are they doing here?”

Basileia turned around in her seat, her blue eyes grave. “Her Grace told me about Reza, that she was spotted with the raiders.”

“And?”

“And I don’t know if you remember, Your Grace, but I was the one who saved Reza from her father in the first place.” Basileia’s eyes were blazing. “I cannot say that I know how you feel, being her lover. But I feel a responsibility towards her, and if you can help her, I want to help you do it.”

Jacen considered a snarky response about not leaving her in a Sith desert, but he knew sun a response was counter-productive. What was done was done, and Reza had been saved then. Besides, he knew better than to reject a possible ally.

“Thank you, then, Lady Basileia.” Jacen nodded. “But I do not understand your reasoning, Lady Siriel? Why are you here?”

Siriel glanced at Basileia. “I wish to help where the Chume’da would like for me to be. And she believes I can be most helpful to your cause. My skills can translate well to disguise, and I am not a bad shot. Besides, I am not cut out for political troubles.”

Allana sighed. “Yes, I am afraid that I will have to send you on your way soon, Jacen.”

“Has something happened?” Jacen asked.

“Amilye has requested that I help with her and Atta’s negotiations with the Amidalans,” Allana explained. “Apparently the situation has gone south very quickly. One of their demands was for Atta’s head on a pike, among other very violent demands with the dissolution of the First Order and its power over joint territory with the New Republic and Hapes.”

Jacen frowned. “They have to realize that they’re a small faction and are easily overwhelmed, and that making such demands won’t help their cases, don’t they?”

Allana sighed once more. “Apparently, there are also far more of them and their sympathizers in New Republic Space than we were previously aware. It seems that there are many who disagreed with Grandmother’s decision to make a treaty and peace rather than continue to decimate the First Order.”

“And I do not have the political savvy required to assist in that manner,” Siriel added. “And Basileia could be critical to finding Reza and the raiders.”

“Yes, while we might not be able to track them for whatever reasons with technology, that isn’t the only way to find them,” Basileia said. “Since Her Grace reported that the camp of raiders on Korriban appears to have left now that Castalia is no longer close to that world, we will have to use other means.”

Kamlinand Jacen exchanged a confused look.

“Such as?” Jacen prompted.

“I don’t know if you remember, Your Grace, but I used to be a spacer with a Hapan shipping company,” Basileia said. “We were more legitimate than most pirates and smugglers,but we certainly dealt our share of shady side business and I learned many useful skills from that, and made more useful contacts.”

“I don’t follow,” Kamlin admitted.

Basileia sat up straighter in her seat, a smirk curling up her face. “I happen to know that Batuu is the best place to go if you’re seeking information. That is, if you know anyone. And lucky for you two, I have many contacts. Smugglers see all sorts of things. They’ll know something.”

“That would be welcome.” Jacen nodded. “I will be happy to take you both on the crew. We should leave tomorrow. We’ve wasted enough time here.”

“We can do that.” Siriel stood up and turned to Allana and Sansin. “With your permission, I would like to go and pack.”

“Permission granted.” Sansin reclined in his seat, a smirk appearing on his face.

“I’ll join her.” Basileia stood. “Thank you, Your Graces, for hearing us out.”

Allana smiled graciously. “Thank you, for assisting me in this matter. You go far above your duty, and I will always admire and appreciate that.”

The two girls nodded and left, leaving the Force-sensitives together.

“So, are you coming then?” Jacen asked Sansin. “I mean, it is your former Sith master who’s mixed up in all of this.”

“Quite frankly, I have no interest in dealing with this mess.” Sansin examined the rings on his his hand. “My master’s involvement has made me less so. As terribly dull and inefficient as politics are, they are welcome compared to revisiting whatever horror Valik Kodank has managed to wreak from beyond the grave. No, I will not help unless it becomes absolutely necessary.”

Jacen could absolutely see the former Sith apprentice in his brother-in-law. He decided to address his sister instead.

“Thanks, Allie. I guess I owe you one for this,” he said.

“Consider it payment for saving me on Crseih,” Allana said. “Besides, we Solos have to stick together.”

“Solo. Right. . .” Jacen looked to Kamlin again. “I need to let Uncle Luke know how this has developed. I trust you’ll be alright?”

“Thanks to you, I think I can navigate around the palace just fine.” Kamlin winked. She then turned to Sansin and Allana and did a small curtsy. “And thanks for all the help with the raiders. Hopefully the University will be able to return soon.”

“Maybe it would be better if that rock was left alone for once,” Sansin muttered.

* * *

“So that’s how the situation is going,” Jacen finished in his recap to Luke.

Luke leaned back and stroked his beard—it was funny how he resembled the old holos of his own mentor, Obi-Wan Kenobi. “It’s good to know that significant progress has been made, and that you’ve at least managed to hold on to the Eye of the sun. It troubles me that the other Jedi artifacts were lost and this girl’s connection to what has happened. I fear that there’s something she isn’t telling you.”

“I think she’s hiding something, but I’m not sure what,” Jacen admitted. “I don’t sense the dark side from her, but she has a cloak around herself in the Force, so I don’t know if that’s accurate or not.”

“Keep an eye on her.” Luke sighed. “The investigation over here is not going well, either. Either Yun or Brianna told someone, because the entire Jedi Order now knows about the theft and the mole. The other Jedi are growing quite worried. Both of them swear that they didn’t tell anyone, however.”

“I can’t imagine—should I come home?” Jacen asked.

“No. You need to take care of this before the Scepter and the raiders become a problem—besides, you may be able to recover the artifacts and discover the mole that way.” Luke’s eye twinkled. “I have my ways of keeping everyone else in line. I do think you could use some help, though. I’ll be sending Yun to Batuu—will that help?”

“Absolutely, thank you, Uncle Luke.” Jacen hesitated. “I got into a fight with Amilye, by the way.”

“What about?” Luke frowned.

“It was about you and the Jedi, actually,” Jacen admitted. “I guess she’s still mad at you about what happened all those years ago. She doesn’t understand that to me, it’s not that much worse than what she or Atta’s done.”

“We all have to walk our own paths. You have chosen yours, and your mother has chosen hers. While I regret that I never got to see the Jedi she could have been, I don’t think I would’ve had you as a Jedi and a nephew if she became a Jedi Knight.”

“I guess not.” Jacen closed his eyes. “How did you reconcile it, after Vader died?”

“Reconcile what?” Luke blinked, confused.

“Your father, the hero, and the monster?”

“This is about your father,” Luke realized. “It was easier, because my father died to save me. Maybe I wouldn’t have found it so easy to forgive, to accept the whole man if we had to live with what happened above Endor. But that doesn’t mean it was easy in the first place. Leia never really reconciled that. But I think because I grew up knowing about Anakin Skywalker and could speak with his spirit. . . It made it easier to understand why he did what he did.”

Jacen nodded.

“I know you have been working on speaking to your father, and that is a step forward.” Luke leaned forward. “But I don’t think it’s something you’ll really understand until you’ve looked the dark in eye and faced it. I know you hate hearing that, all kids do. But I don’t think you’ll understand your dad until you’ve been in his boots.”

“Alright, so if I wake up on Stalstinek IV in the middle of the night with a lightsaber over me, I’ll know what happened,” Jacen joked.

“I think your mother would murder me if that happened.” Luke smiled. “Still, be careful out there. And if it turns out that the girl was right about Reza. . .”

“Yes?”

“Listen to your heart.” Luke smiled sadly. “You have a courageous spirit and kn right and wrong better than most. Use that and commit to what you know is right—even if it hurts.”

“I will.” Jacen promised. “May the Force be with you.”

“And with you, kid.”

The comm turned off, leaving Jacen in the darkness of his rom. He couldn't help but feel he was at a critical turning point.


	16. Trail of Thieves

When the sun was just a glimmer among the crystal capitol of Kira Ka Chume’Dan, the prince and three young women awoke and dressed, then gathering their things to board the Thunder Wraith. While Jacen initially worried that using a Hapan Battle Dragon might in fact be a tip-off that something was wrong to pirates and their ilk, Basileia assured him otherwise.

“Plenty of pirates have ships they aren’t supposed to, that are too powerful or expensive for them,” Basileia explained as she looked the _Thunder Wraith_ up and down. “I can tell a good story for you, as long as you refuse to tell how you got it—build an air of mystery, you see. You already look powerful—I don’t know if it’s some affect because of the Force or because you are the Emperor’s son, but it will do you well on Batuu.”

“Yeah, no one will mess with us.” Siriel plucked at her jet-black tunic with gold clasps across the front and matching golden embroidery. The fabric gave way to reveal more of the high collar and the puffed sleeves of her undershirt. It was toned down for the lady-in-waiting—although Jacen feared they would still be far too conspicuous as a group.

“Just follow my lead, and we should be fine.” Basileia met Jacen’s eyes—he realized that she had seen him staring at the far more conspicuous Siriel. He suspected the long dark green coat that buttoned only in a small section at the front was an actual remnant from Lady Arune’s spacer days. It was worn, the color faded, and had a far simpler construction than Siriel’s tunic.

Jacen had opted for similarly simple clothing—by Hapan standards, at least. For now, he ditched the leather jacket and the loose wrappings of the Jedi garb, choosing a plain black jacket and pants—reminiscent of Luke Skywalker at the Battle of Endor in all the old holos.

He looked far too much like his father and the fathers of the Skywalker line that had come before him, with all the sins that entailed.

But these clothes blended better, and while he was sure aspects of the cut and the fabric gave away their upper-class position, it did give him a decidedly authoritative look, like a dark prince.

Which, a particularly pedantic person might insist he was.

“Got all the supplies packed away—we shouldn’t have to refuel or pick up any new supplies for an entire standard month!” Kamlin’s eyes glittered as she leaned out of the door to the _Thunder Wraith._ She had also been discrete in her clothing, opting for a slightly-oversized olive jacket with many pockets and her coveralls over a brightly-patterned shirt. She looked like any ordinary mechanic on any ordinary ship—except for the lightsabers hanging off of her hips.

Jacen wondered if he should just give up on the idea of fitting in with the pirates on Batuu right now.

“We’d better get going, then,” he said. “I don’t want to give them too much time to cause more trouble.”

“I’ll help you navigate once we’re out of the Transitory Mists,” Basileia promised. ‘This particular trail is very difficult to detect close to Hapes, and indeed, coincidentally, many of the wealthier worlds. But it’s very obvious close to Corellia, and there’s been some underground races with the trail. My old crew won one of those.”

“That sounds exciting!” Siriel gasped, excitedly hurrying in and towards a seat. “I only hope we’ll have as many interesting stories as you do, by the time we come home.”

“I suspect we will,” Jacen said grimly. “We’re tracking down a Sith cult, after all.”

“I’m so excited, your sister never lets us come on Force-related stuff!”

“To be fair, that’s because these cults are the most terrifying things we will ever likely lay eyes on,” Basileia reminded her, a protective fondness in her blue eyes.

“Different parts of the galaxy think different things about the Jedi, the Sith and the Force,” Kamlin added. “Some have more positive views than others. More planets than not, however, find the concept terrifying.”

“They’re wrong,” Siriel said as she primly sat in one of the command seats, working on her safety restraints.

“Well, we should certainly have an interesting time.” Basileia took the co-pilot’s seat. “Well, Your Grace—lead the way.”

* * *

The travel out of Hapan Space and the Transitory Mists was a relatively short journey, and it was as easy as a Force-user could expect these days. Far now were the days when the Transitory Mists were a barrier between the Consortium and the rest of the galaxy. Things had changed considerably since Palpatine’s very first rise to power.

“Alright, we should be approaching the trail quick now.” Basileia squinted at the stars outside of the _Thunder Wraith’s_ main viewport. Even the non-Force Sensitive could detect hyperspace lanes, if they knew how to look. There was the faint blue trail, the strange feelings that were unique to each person, the dissociative feeling of a tenuous grip to reality and time.

“We’ll need to move quickly, merge into it now,” Basileia warned.

With the reflexes inherited from all of the pilots that came before him, Jacen threw down the hyperdrive switch and used the joystick controls to merge into the hyperspace lane.

“We’re not out of the woods just yet.”

To punctuate her point, an asteroid cut through the center of the path. Jacen dodged, and then noticed a fork in the path.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before!”

“Neither have I,” Siriel murmured, watching raptly.

“We’ll have a few more branches to navigate before we hit the main stream and can relax,” Basileia explained. “Go left, and be careful—the separation between hyperspace and regular space is thin in these tributaries. It is easy for debris such as what you just saw to enter the stream. Be careful.”

“Left,” Jacen repeated, in a whisper more meant for himself than for anything else. He sped up, gliding around a lost bit of satellite. Trusting in his instincts, the Force, and Basileia’s experience, Jacen drifted and merged from lane to lane. He dodged and wove through the complex realm between space and time, the very thing that made their galaxy what it was.

Before Basileia could tell him, he knew that he was in the clear. He could feel some semblance of space and time wrap around him again, albeit in the foreign rules of hyperspace alone. He leaned back in his chair, undoing the safety harnesses as he glanced down at the display.

“We should be at Batuu in four standard hours,” he announced. He then turned to Basileia, who had stood and was dusting her green coat off. “Thank you for your aid, Lady Basileia. I suspect we would not have made it to Batuu in nearly the time.”

“And we would not have any credibility to pose as pirates,” Basileia added as she adjusted her black leather gloves. “And it pleases me to serve the House of Djo, Prince Jacen.”

With that, she left the cabin.

Siriel quickly undid her restraints. “I’ll go after her, make sure she won’t get into trouble and all that!”

And with that, Kamlin and Jacen were alone in the cockpit.

Kamlin switched seats, taking the co-pilot position. Jacen was surprised at how right it felt, away from the adrenaline of escaping Korriban. It was like she was always meant to be there, at his side, fighting the forces of evil with him.

It was even stranger, because he had once had the same thoughts about Reza. Only now, he couldn’t picture her sitting there, as his right-hand woman anymore.

He looked away from Kamlin, ashamed at his own thoughts. Whatever had happened to Reza, he couldn’t leave her. Not like this.

“So, do you know any good card games?” Kamlin asked, pulling out a worn-out and faded deck of cards. “I’m better at pazaak than sabaac, but I’m also open to learning some new ones. It got boring sometimes on the dig sites, so we’d learn whatever we could to pass the time.”

“It’s the same at the Jedi Academy.” Jacen laughed, in spite of his own gloomy thoughts. “You’d think it never gets boring with a bunch of teenagers with magic powers and laser-swords, but it happens from time to time. So we’d do stuff like card games, like any other teenager.”

“It sounds like you had a fun childhood there,” Kamlin said with a wistful smile as she shuffled the deck. “So, which game do you want to play?”

“Sabaac,” Jacen answered. “That was the only one I was any good at.”

“We’ll see about that.” Kamlin smirked.


	17. Pirate Queen

There was a strange energy around Batuu in the Force. Jacen could sense echoes of the Second Galactic Civil War here. Perhaps, in another word, another timeline, this place would have been important to the ending of that war, had Hapes not intervened.

“I finished locking down the _Thunder Wraith,_ ” Siriel declared as she joined with the rest of the party outside of the shipyard. “Any intruders will be doused with blaster fire.”

“That’s brutal,” Jacen muttered.

“Our defenses need to be, if we’re here,” Basileia murmured. “Otherwise, someone will try and steal a Hapan dragon. Most pirates and pilots alike could only dream of such a prize. But it does give an impression, if we can keep it. So it was worth keeping. Besides, we don’t know what sort of fight we’ll be walking into with your cultists.”

“That’s true.” Jacen glanced around at the busy streets of the trading post, filled with eccentric vendors. “Where are we headed, by the way?”

“Oga’s Cantina,” Basileia answered. “It’s a favorite among smugglers. I got into contact with some old friends while we were traveling on the Trail of Thieves. They’ll be waiting for us there.”

“Do you think they’ll know anything?”

“Of course they will.” Basileia sounded more like she was reassuring herself rather than Jacen. “They’ve got friends all over the galaxy.”

“Let’s hope your friends are an accurate source, then.”

Basileia led them down a shady-looking alleyway, and pulled open a side door.

“After you,” Jacen said, taking the door from her. He glanced up above the side door. In black spray paint, sloppy Aubresh read: _BLACK WERE THE SPIRES THAT CALLED ME TO STAY._

He frowned, then followed the women inside.

Oga’s Cantina was like any other cantina in the galaxy. Mostly dark, with alcoves and sparse lighting, it was the exact place one expected to meet smugglers. A few such shady individuals turned their heads as the mostly-Hapan crew walked by, although more knew better than to pay a rich pirate attention. That sort of wealth and prestige, after all, came with a certain cutthroat strategy and ruthless skill.

The party avoided the main bar, where patrons were watching the news on the HoloNet over their drinks. Instead, they followed Basileia to a booth near the main door, occupied by only two individuals, one on each side: a human male and a part-Sephi woman.

Both would have stood out in any world. Both were young, in their late twenties at the oldest and wore layers of tattered clothing with lots of pockets, nooks, and crannies for various items. Not even a blaster pistol was visible on either person, which was especially suspicious in and of itself.

What Jacen noticed were the rings on both their hands, on the fourth finger of each of their left. Something was off about the rings, although he couldn’t say what.

The man’s face was extremely freckled, with bright blue eyes, a smuggler’s smile, and a shock of white-blonde hair. The woman had elongated Sephi ears, dark hair held back into multiple little buns in a hairstyle reminiscent of Queen Amidala’s in her celebration after the end of the Invasion of the Trade Federation. Her hazel eyes narrowed as they locked onto Jacen, although she offered Basileia a nod and a small, polite smile.

“Basileia Arune, sit, please sit.” The man waved her over to sit next to him. She bit her lip and obliged, Siriel hurrying to her other side, the worry as clear in her face as the moons’ light out in the late afternoon sky.

Jacen shot a look at Kamlin, who silently agreed to act as physical buffer between the woman and Jacen. He didn’t dare get comfortable in the booth, and tried to resist the urge to reach for his lightsaber.

“Aisleen, it’s good to see you again, and you as well, Grainne, you both look well.” Basileia nodded towards her friend.

“It’s good to see you, too.” Grainne’s smile warmed a little. “You’ve been out of the business for five years.”

“I got a new job.” Basileia shrugged, a smirk already playing at the corners of her mouth. She was shifting, transforming before Jacen’s very eyes into a new person. He wondered if his sister had seen this version of her lady-in-waiting sitting before him now.

“Last I heard, you scored a position with the Chume’da,” Aisleen played with a set of dice in his hand, chipped and clearly hand-carved. “I can’t blame you, of course. Power is power.”

Grainne bit her lip—she clearly disagreed. Then her eyes returned to Jacen. She didn’t look away from him as she spoke to Basileia. “Why is his son here?”

“Forgive my wife, we should at least ask for introductions before we start making veiled threats.” Aisleen looked to Grainne with clear adoration. “Basileia,mind introducing us to your crew?”

“Of course—and I’ll explain, Grainne, I promise.” Basileia’s blue eyes surveyed the table. “This is Lady Siriel Jien, a close friend of mine.”

“And another lady-in-waiting to the Chume’da.” Grainne raised an eyebrow. “You travel with obvious companions.”

“We did our best.” Basileia smiled apologetically. “Unfortunately, Hapan clothing and equipment is far from subtle.”

Grainne and Aisleen exchanged a glance.

“We’ll have to do something about that, if we’re going to help you,” Grainne said. “Continue, I’m sorry.”

“This is Kamlin Castalia, she’s a friend and a former archaeologist from the University of Corellia.”

Kamlin gave a tiny finger-wave.

“Archaeologist?” Aisleen let out a small whistle. “Don’t see many of those in bars like these. Smugglers and archaeologists are not often allies.”

“Times like these make strange bedfellows.” Kamlin shrugged. “And there have been times when the lines were blurred. I can respect that.”

“I like this one,” Grainne murmured.

“And now, for the man of the hour,” Aisleen added.

“Well, you recognize him, then,” Basileia said. “I should not fully introduce Jacen, in a place like this.”

“Jacen _Solo_ ,” Jacen murmured, sitting up straighter and meeting Grainne’s gaze.

Something in her softened, ever-so-slightly.

“So, what’s brought you here?” Aisleen asked, turning back to Basileia. “I thought you were done for good, love.”

“I thought I was, too, but there’s something Jacen and Kamlin found that I can’t ignore,” Basileia said. “Do you know the story of why I quit space?”

“I heard it had something to do with Crseih,” Grainne said.

Aisleen shuddered visibly. “Horrible place—glad that nasty little stop is gone.”

“So am I,” Jacen agreed.

“It did— and it’s a long story, but I rescued a girl, a Jedi.” Basileia nodded to Jacen. “He helped get her to the Jedi, and they both trained under Skywalker. With Skywalker’s training, three years ago, they investigated Crseih, and helped rid the station of the sinister ghost presence and the cult there.”

“To be fair, my sister and her stupid ghost boyfriend came and saved us,” Jacen grumbled, turning pink.

Still, Grainne and Aisleen looked mildly impressed.

“The girl has since gone missing, and she’s been linked to a cult following the teachings of Janton Belos that was operating on Korriban, until recently,” Basileia added.

“They’re after me, because—“ Kamlin abruptly stopped, tugging on the cord around her neck. “I mean, for some reason.”

Grainne did not look convinced.

“We need your help finding the cult,” Jacen explained. “They’re Sith, they’re dangerous, and they have my sweetheart. I have to help them, I have to save her.”

Grainne and Aisleen exchanged another glance.

“We might be able to help,” Grainne finally said.

“You see,” Aisleen began.

He was interrupted by the sound of a body slamming to the floor.

Everyone’s head turned, and Jacen could feel his heart in his throat as he recognized the silvery-white hair and light Jedi robes with arcane symbols. His eyes trailed up the boot on the body’s back and the barrel of the rifle blaster pressed to his hair to see the figure of one of the raiders, flanked by two others.

“Where is Jacen Djo? Your friend gets it if you don’t reveal yourself.”

He removed the safety as several patrons watched, careful not to reach for their own weapons so they could claim willful ignorance.

“Seems you have a problem,” Aisleen murmured.

“You have to help us,please,” Jacen hissed.

“If you do a job with us,” Grainne said. “Then we have a deal.”

Time seemed to slow down as Jacen’s heartbeat drowned out all else. He was a Jedi, he was supposed to uphold the law, to stop people like this. To get information with or to solicit help from criminals was one thing. But to participate in a robbery was another thing. . .

“Chrono’s ticking,” Grainne said.

“Come on, let’s just help the kid—“ Aisleen’s eyes flicked toward Yun on the floor.

A quick glance at Yun was enough to shock Jacen into decision.

“We have a deal.”


	18. Blaze of Glory

“Good choice.” Grainne and Aisleen pulled weapons hidden in cloth folds on their persons.

Jacen could hear the large blaster rifle powering up—he focused on the blaster bolt at the end of the barrel and as it whined, he used the Force to push the blaster bolt back into the chamber, shattering the blaster and causing the raiders to fall away. One hit his head against the side of the bar, tumbling to the ground unconscious with blood trailing down the countertop.

Sparks rained as Yun summoned his saber-staff to his hand from the belt of one of the raiders. He stood as Jacen and Kamlin charged into action with their lightsabers.

Kamlin ran past the two Jedi at one of the remaining two raiders with her two lightsabers activated, first blocking their quick attempt at defense with their lightsaber pike, then kicking the legs out from under them.

“You alright?” Jacen asked.

“I’m fine—watch out!”

Jacen whirled around just as Yun used the Force to push the raider against the wall.

“Thanks, man.” Jacen glanced back in time to see Kamlin plunge the end of her lightsaber through the heart of the raider she’d been kicking in the face on the floor.

The final raider slowly rose from the wall, grabbing her lightsaber pike from off of her back. She activated the blades and twirled them, winding up for an attack as she stalked closer to the three Jedi. Every eye in the bar was trained on the Jedi-Sith duel about to commence in Oga’s Cantina.

Jacen, Yun, and Kamlin spun their blades in perfect sync, lining up for their own attack.

Before they could react, however, the raider was taken out via a headshot from Grainne.

Kamlin and Yun stared at the raider’s corpse in disbelief. Jacen turned his head to see Grainne blow out the small plume of smoke coming off the end of the blaster.

Aisleen pulled a stack of credits out of another hidden pocket on his person and handed it to a stunned barkeep.

“My apologies for the mess, love.” Aisleen wrapped the barkeep’s fingers around the credits. “Keep the change.”

The barkeep blinked, then nodded, and Aisleen nodded at the rest of the party.

“Let’s move out,” Grainne announced, taking the lead.

Some of the patrons returned to their drinks, illicit dealings, and gamblings. But the majority were still watching.

“Nothing to look at here, keep moving,” Grainne barked, the butt of her blaster rifle on her shoulder.

“Come on,” Basileia said. “We’ll work out the details outside.”

Once in the alley, Aisleen and Grainne addressed the party.

“So, your ship or ours?” Aisleen asked.

“You can probably put your ship in ours,” Jacen said.

“You’re the asshole with the Hapan Dragon, aren’t you?” Grainne asked with a smirk, as Aisleen let out a low whistle.

“That would be us, yes.” Basileia turned pink.

“You are far from inconspicious— but that might be in our favor, with this job.” Aisleen shared a glance with Grainne. “We’ll meet you there as soon as we can. We’re flying the _Blaze of Glory_. Has a giant Rebel Starbird on it, can’t miss it.”

“It’s a real Ugly,” Grainne said affectionately. “But I like my ship as rough-and-tumble as my men.”

Jacen bit his lip and looked down at his boots— Grainne and Aisleen were starting to act like Sansin and Allana, or worse, his parents.

Siriel mercifully gave off a loud cough, interrupting the couple before anything could accelerate.

“We’ll meet you then.”

They started off in separate directions, and Yun finally spoke.

“Thanks, for saving me back there—I was looking for you and they got me by surprise,” Yun explained.

“It’s not a problem,” Jacen assured him. “I don’t believe you’ve met our crew, and they certainly haven’t met you.”

“We haven’t,” Siriel added.

“This is Yun Vasilias, he’s a Jedi Knight and an apprentice to our Jedi Historian,” Jacen explained. “He’ll be helping us with our investigation since he has a lot of experience with Force artifacts.”

“I hope that we’ll be able to recover the Scepter of Ragnos at the very least and determine who in the Jedi Order has thrown in their lot with the cult,” Yun said.

“This is Lady Basileia and Lady Siriel, my sister’s ladies-in-waiting, and this is Kamlin, the Angel of the Dunes.” Jacen pointed out each lady in turn.

“I look forward to working with all of you.” Yun then frowned. “I can’t say for sure yet whether or not I like the look of our allies yet, however.”

“Neither can I,” Jacen muttered. “Neither can I.”

* * *

The pirates were true to their word, and an hour after their encounter in the bar, they all sat in one of the lounges inside the Thunder Wraith to discuss the job they would do together.

“Don’t worry, it’s not a big one, and you’re not likely to get in trouble, being a prince and all,” Grainne said.

“And this isn’t some greed-plunder,” Aisleen added as he stretched his arm around Grainne. “We intend to keep the artifact we’re stealing.”

“What for?” Jacen frowned. “What’s the significance?”

“That’s our business.” Grainne narrowed her eyes. “Forgive us, we won’t be telling Kylo Ren’s son all of our plans, for obvious reasons.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it—we’re not on the best terms,” Jacen assured her. “I’d like to know that I’m not causing a bigger problem than the cult that we’re fighting.”

“Oh, no, you won’t be.” Aisleen clapped his other hand over his heart. “Pirate’s honor and all, this is for noble reasons.”

Jacen couldn’t sense any deception from Aisleen—but that didn’t mean anything when it came to smugglers and liars, who often knew how to lie and deceive Force-sensitives. A good deal of them were often minor Force-sensitives themselves. They’d never know it and they’d never be Jedi, but their skills were amplified by it and contributed to the amazing luck of many of these scoundrels.

Grainne locked eyes with him. “We might steal from the rich Corellian and Coruscanti companies, or billionaires from the far corners of the galaxy, and we might murder if its our lives or others on the line. We might cheat at the casinos at Canto Bight. But we don’t do it for our own gain.”

“We’d have a much nicer ship if we did,” Aisleen joked.

“We have a cause we intend to fight for and a promise we intend to keep.” Grainne’s countenance darkened. “Even if Princess Leia herself couldn’t keep it.”

_What are they talking about?_

Kamlin’s eyes widened in comprehension. “You’re Amidalans!”

Grainne nodded. “We were born in the Resistance. Tell me, princeling—do you know what you are truly prince of?”

“Nothing,” Jacen answered, leaning into the table. “I’m prince of nothing—I inherit nothing except some dowry my wife would control. My older sister’s the one who will rule Hapes and the rest of the galaxy when my parents die, not me.”

“Still, you clearly don’t know the atrocities that have occurred under the First Order.”

Basileia and Grainne both jumped at the bitterness in Aisleen’s voice as he spoke. He toggled with his ring—the flat metal design flipped with a Rebel Starbird.

“Of course, everyone knows about Alderaan, Scarif, about Operation Cinder, Starkiller Base,” Aisleen continued. His gaze was somewhere far away. “Everyone acts like it’s in the past, so it doesn’t matter. Never mind that abuses of power are still happening on Corellia, on Deyer, in so many worlds that the Emperor neglects to take care of.”

Grainne placed a hand over his, and that seemed to ground him, to bring him back.

Aisleen struggled to smile. “So forgive us, Jacen, if we’re not particular fans of your father or of his faction.”

Jacen sighed. “I’m not either, even if my relationship to it is. . . Complicated, to say the least. But I thank you, for sharing your story. I don’t care what you do with the artifact, as long as it won’t make the galaxy a worse place.”

“I guess we should talk about exactly what we’re doing, then,” Basileia said. She looked eager to get this conversation back on track.

“Right.” Aisleen coughed, and his roguish, regular smile was back. “We found a First Order family on a remote planet in possession of a sacred artifact from Endor. We’ve got the place scouted out—we should be able to get in and out, but we need a distraction.”

Kamlin leaned in, there was a dark glimmer of recognition in her eyes. “Where will we be going?”

“We’re robbing the governor of Vernes, at their one port city, Horus Outpost,” Grainne said.

Kamlin nodded, a grim reluctance settling over her. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

“You’ve heard of the artifact, then?” Aisleen asked.

“I’ve seen it myself.” Kamlin closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh as she tipped her head back. “I swore I’d never go back to Vernes.” She opened her eyes. “Guess it’s time to see my family again.”

Jacen glanced at the pirates—they looked nervous now. “You mean—“

“I’m the governor’s daughter.”

Aisleen and Grainne shared a glance.

“Maybe we should just help you as a freebie,” Grainne said.

“No.” Kamlin’s voice rang out in the silence, and her eyes blazed. “I can help you and I will—and I don’t feel a damn thing about robbing them.”

With that, she stood and walked away.

“We have our deal,” Jacen said. “Basileia and Siriel will help you steal, I’ll help Kamlin distract her. In return, you’ll tell us what you know and help us track down these cultists, is that sufficient?”

“It’ll do nicely,” Aisleen assured him.


	19. Vernes

“So what’s with this artifact, anyway?” Jacen asked as Kamlin entered the otherwise empty cockpit of the _Thunder Wraith_.

“I can’t believe that’s the only question you have.” Kamlin smiled sardonically as she sat in the first-mate’s chair.

“I thought it was a good place to start.” Besides, Jacen knew better than to ask about complicated family drama. _Let her talk about it in her own time. Besides, I suspect that we’ll be finding out soon enough._

Kamlin’s smile turned to one of relief as she drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “It was an artifact from Endor, one that was gifted to my family during the Second Galactic Civil War. I guess it was recovered with Vader’s helmet—but since my family had struck a deal with the First Order, they were entrusted with it. The First Order knew nothing of the power that the artifact wielded.”

“What kind of power?” Jacen leaned in closer to her.

“Only the Ewoks know,” Kamlin admitted. “My parents never touched it, and I suspect that they only hung onto it because it was granted to them by the First Order. They never saw the artifact in use. But I could always feel a strange energy coming off of it. I guess it was the Force, wasn’t it?”

“I’d guess so.” Jacen nodded, encouraging her along.

“It was this wand, carved from an ancient tree no scholar could identify,” Kamlin continued. “Like a magic wand, in _The Octave Stairway_ or those old Face Loran holodramas. It’s supposed to be sacred to the Ewoks and belonged to one of their goddesses, the Leaf Queen.”

“I’ve heard of her.” Jacen placed a finger on his chin. “I think there’s scholarship that indicates she was an offshoot of Allya and the Daughter, the archetypical figure in most Force-inspired religions.”

Kamlin blinked. “I thought you weren’t an archaeologist.”

Jacen snorted. “I’m not. At all. That’s my sister. But I know the Force. I’d have to, being a Jedi and all.”

Kamlin rolled her eyes. “I guess so.”

The _Thunder Wraith_ then leapt out of hyperspace, right above the distant world of Vernes.

“Are you going to be okay with this plan?” Jacen asked.

Kamlin hesitated. “I’m a big girl, Jacen. I’m capable of getting over my own discomfort for the greater good.”

Jacen stood up. “Well, then call the others—it’s time for Aisleen and Grainne to make good on their end of the bargain.”

* * *

Vernes was a small dust-ball of a world, so small that one might classify it as a dwarf planet. It had no official moons, only a few asteroids it had lured into its relatively weak orbit. Made mostly of desert, prairie, and the occasional scrappy forest, there were only a few townships on the planet—and it was easy for Kamlin to point them in the direction of the capitol, where the governor lived.

The plan was simple—Basileia, Yun, Siriel, Grainne, and Aisleen would sneak in through the back entrance that had been scouted by the pirates a few months ago while everyone was focused on Jacen and Kamlin.

He had adjusted his spacer’s costume a little, adding the official Shardasan ring with the crest of a dragon on it, and putting a First Order pin on his lapel. He then could at least be recognized as the prince of two empires.

Kamlin had not adjusted herself at all, except to hide her lightsabers on the inside of the large olive green cargo jacket that was at the same length as the floral dress with beading and bell sleeves done in the style of a Hapan commoner. She looked girlish, but the boots and the jacket put an edge about her.

Perhaps it was also the gathering shadows in her coffee-dark eyes as they walked through the streets of her hometown.

“Horus Outpost,” Kamlin added in a whisper as they strode through town square. “I spent my whole life here, until I got into the University of Corellia. Never thought I’d get to leave this dirt ball behind. I’d hoped to never come back after Korriban.”

Jacen frowned—but he knew better than to ask, especially when he was so close to those answers, unfortunately.

Their house was surprisingly far off from the rest of the town, but it was easily recognizable in its surprising grandeur and how its architecture was more reminiscent of Coruscant or Chandrila than the rustic homes of Vernes surrounding them.

Jacen flashed his ring at the guards at the front gate, and that was enough to get them to the front door. After all, every First Order soldier and bureaucrat knew the symbol of Hapes and the Queen Mother. It was the symbol of their deliverance.

Kamlin hesitated before the front door.

“Just, follow my lead, okay?”

“I will,” Jacen promised. “I trust you. It’s going to be okay.”

She took his hand, and squeezed it for reassurance. Then she closed her eyes and sighed deeply. When she opened them, she rang the doorbell. The electronic, tinny chime echoed.

Then, after a few minutes, the door opened to reveal a woman who greatly resembled Kamlin, with her dark wavy hair and short stature, in a beautiful silk midnight blue gown with golden embroidery.

“Hello, how can I—“ She stopped—and Jacen recognized the horror that washed over her, before she schooled her features to a more appropriate expression of surprise. “Kamlin? I— I thought—-“

“Hi Mom.” Kamlin waved weakly. “I’m home. Sorry it took so long.”

“I—I don’t understand.” Kamlin’s mother swallowed thickly, her eyes flicking to Jacen in attempt at comprehension. Her eyes widened however when she took in the crest of the First Order and the Hapes Consortium. “Are you—“

“Prince Jacen Djo of the First Order and Hapes.” He bowed.

“Your Worship!” Kamlin’s mother hastily curtsied, then extended her hand. “Carren Castalia at your service.”

Jacen shook her fingertips. “No, madam, I believe I am at your service. I found your presumed-dead daughter on Korriban and have brought her back to you. I see we will have much to talk about.”

“What?” Carren blinked. “I—yes, of course. My servant, she will escort you to the parlor while I retrieve the governor. My apologies, Your Worship, we had no idea you were coming, or we would have made grander preparations—“

“No need,” Jacen assured her, trying his most charming smile. “I am simply doing my duty as a Jedi and prince of this galaxy.”

Something strange flickered in Carren’s eyes. Still, she mumbled something to a blonde girl carrying a broomstick, who then quickly set aside the broom to escort them into a parlor that reminded Jacen of a more barren, less colorful version of the decor on the _Eternity_. Less trinkets, less cloths covering anything. But there was still a large rug covering the floor in neutral colors instead of the jewel tones Jacen saw on Kamlin’s ship.

He turned around the place a moment in the military stance he had learned from his father for his few duties for his sister’s empires. He observed the trinkets, the holos on the wall.

This was the place where Kamlin had grown up. There was so much he could tell from just looking at this place—and yet he was painfully aware of so much that he had yet to know about his latest partner-in-crime. Seeing her face as a child on this same rug in the holos made him realize how much more he wanted to know about her.

“Jacen, come sit with me.” He turned to see her on the chaise, strangely stiff and upright in her posture. Her voice was so small, so vulnerable. “Please.”

“Of course.”

He took his position beside her, and was surprised that he found himself reaching for her hand—only to realize in a heartbeat that she was reaching for him, too.

They met each other’s eyes. But before they could speak, they were interrupted by the blonde servant speaking.

“Introducing, Governor Lin Castalia and his wife, Carren.”


	20. Strange Bedfellows

Governor Castalia was a tall man with dark hair and dark eyes, and ice was wedged into every part of his countenance and his demeanor. Something about his movements, as fluid as they were, reminded Jacen of Threepio in their coldness, in the artificiality about them. He even wore an ice blue vest with silver detailings.

He extended a hand to Jacen as the prince stood. Jacen accepted, and was surprised by Governor Castalia’s aggressively strong grip.

“Thank you, for bringing my daughter back to us.” Governor Castalia smiled, but there was no warmth to it, no familiarity. “We thought she had died in the desert and that we would never see her again.”

He shot Kamlin a pointed glance. But Kamlin did not seem to be entirely there, for she was staring very intently at the bouquet of wildflowers in the center table of the parlor.

“You’re very lucky that your daughter is strong with the Force,” Jacen answered.

There was a flash in both the Governor’s eyes and his wife’s, before returning to amicability.

“She was able to survive thanks to her gift,” Jacen added. “She was a hero—she’s saved my life twice.”

He smiled at Kamlin—but she didn’t even look to him. He couldn’t help but frown, she was so unresponsive. He looked back to the Governor, more uncertain.

“You really should be proud of her,” Jacen added. “She has the heart of a Jedi?”

“The heart of a Jedi?” Governor Castalia raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes up the heart of a sorcerer? Courage, perhaps? Maybe a certain disregard for the laws that mortals must abide?”

Jacen blinked.

“Come out, bring the thieves and the treasure,” Carren called.

Guards and raiders entered the room, the guards holding blasters to the heads of the allies that were supposed have stolen the wand. In the hand of another guard, there was the Wand itself.

And the raiders were waiting with ignited ruby lightsabers.

Kamlin scrambled to her feet as Jacen reached for the hilt of his own lightsaber.

“I wouldn’t do that, Jedi.” Governor Castalia held a hand up. “After all, then my guards have an excuse to fire blaster bolts into your friends’ brains.”

Jacen lifted his hand so that the guards and the raiders could see that had not picked up his lightsaber.

He looked to Kamlin—they needed to come up with a plan, and fast.

Kamlin looked back to her parents in dismay. “What are you doing? Do you know who these people are?”

“The Cult of Belos—we’re aware.” Governor Castalia glanced at a ring on his index finger. It was the same kind of ring that Jacen had seen on other cultists. “They are perhaps an unsavory sort. But we happen to have goals that align.”

“What—what kind of goals could you possibly have that align with theirs?” Kamlin gestured emphatically,her tiny frame shaking with rage.

“We have what they want, a powerful artifact, our daughter, and the son of Kylo Ren, and they have the credits we need.” Governor Castalia’s dark starless eyes turned to the matching set in his daughter. “Credits we need after paying what we did to cover up your indiscretion.”

Kamlin’s arms fell limply to her sides. Her jaw dropped. The energy seemed to be sapped out of her body. She then curled her hands into fists.

“I didn’t want for you to cover up what happened.” Her voice cracked—-tears formed in her eyes. “I wanted my parents to help me, to love me, to tell me that everything was going to be okay, to help me find someone who could help me use this power! I didn’t want for you to fake my death and send me away!”

“Well, we don’t always get what we want,” Governor Castalia sneered. “The question is, will you give us what we want willingly, or will I have to force my hand?”

Jacen glanced at Kamlin.

“”Ah-ah!” Governor Castalia held a finger up. “You have to make a choice-give yourselves over to our friends, or your allies will suffer the consequences.”

Jacen could hear the blasters powering up. Time slowed down as he held out a hand. He had no idea what to do, how to stop it, his mind and his senses lost in an adrenaline-induced blur. All he knew was that the blaster bolts could not fire, that he couldn’t let his friends die, not like this. So he pushed every single blaster in the room just a few inches to the right—just before they could go off.

Time came crashing back in as all the windows shattered, and the furniture came crashing down, the blaster bolts hitting objects, setting them on fire. Jacen tackled Kamlin to the ground as one of the bookshelves fell and the trinkets came down on Governor Castalia’s head, leaving him unconscious on the ground with Karina kneeling over him.

As Jacen looked up, he watched as his friends took advantage of the distractions, grabbing their weapons and turning them on the guards.

He looked to Kamlin. “Did you—“

She nodded, pulling him to his feet alongside her. “We’ve gotta get out of here.” She then reached out a hand, summoning the Wand to her hand and pocketing it. She drew her lightsabers at the same time as Jacen and they turned back-to-back as the raiders came closing in on them.

The next few seconds were a blur, with the adrenaline and the smell of smoke and blood. Jacen and Kamlin cut through the initial wave of raiders in a frenzy.

As Jacen finished running one through with the tip of his lightsaber, he tried to glance over his shoulder at Kamlin.

“We’ve gotta get you out of here,” he said. “Try to go with the others, I’ll cover for you—“

“No, stupid, we’re all leaving together, or not at all!”

With that, Kamlin pushed all of the remaining guards and raiders into the walls. Jacen grabbed Kamlin’s hand, running to the barricade the remaining crew of the Thunder Wraith had created from the toppled furniture.

He tossed Kamlin over first, before vaulting himself over and dropping between her and Aisleen.

“You got the wand, then, love?” Aisleen asked.

Jacen found himself frowning at the pet name, even though he knew it was irrational, knew that Aisleen was married as young as he was.

“Yeah—are your speeders still in the back?”

“Hopefully!” Siriel chipped in as she fired around the barricade.

“If not, we’ll steal one of theirs.” Grainne reached for what looked like a grenade on her belt.

“Whoa, we’re not going to kill them, are you?”

Grainne raised an eyebrow as she yanked off the pin. “You’re a Jedi, aren’t you? What do you think you’re doing with the lightsaber?”

Yun turned bright red, in sharp contrast with his white hair. “I’m a Jedi librarian, not a warrior.”

“Couldn’t help but notice.” Grainne grumbled as she tossed the grenade in the living room. “Besides, it’s more like a smoke bomb—that should distract them for a few minutes. Now come on, we need to get out of here!”

With that, they ran through the house, Kamlin taking the lead, as she knew these halls better than the rest of them ever could.

Right outside the back porch of stone and transparisteel were five speeders. Yun hopped on one, as did Grainne and Aisleen. Jacen did a quick count before looking to Kamlin.

“Only one speeder left for both of us.”

“That seems to be a habit for us, doesn’t it?”

Jacen swallowed thickly, now remembering the last escape pod out of the Eternity.

He mounted the speeder and Kamlin hopped on behind him, clutching his jacket for support as he took off, following the others into the scrubby brush trees.


	21. The Wand of the Leaf Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I reduced the chapter count, because I realized that some of the chapters in my outlines were stretching things out a little too much. So sorry about that, guys! But hopefully that means this fic will be finished a little sooner!

“We should be safe now,” Grainne announced as the hoverbikes came to a stop in front of the _Thunder Wraith_. She glanced overhead—the sun had set behind the trees, casting the scrubby forest into darkness. “We should pack up and get ready to leave—we can sleep on the way back to Batuu.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Jacen dismounted and helped Kamlin off of the hoverbike. “We might as well leave the bikes here—we’re not thieves.”

“I mean, we are.” Aisleen gestured between himself and Grainne.

“And we did just rob a house,” Siriel added with a gleeful twinkle in her eye.

“And I’ve certainly engaged in some privateering—“

Jacen and Kamlin shared a glance. “So we’re not thieves.”

“Yes, exactly.” Kamlin nodded.

“These swoops are traceable, I suppose.” Grainne sighed reluctantly and dismounted. She started stashing her blasters and other items back into the myriad of hidden pockets.

They then hurried into the ship and jettisoned into space.

It was only once the blue of hyperspace streaked past them that they all leaned back, relieved and exhausted.

“Well done, I see Basileia here still has a pirate’s spirit.” Aisleen clapped Basileia on the back. “It feels right, to see you here.”

Basileia made a noncommittal noise, turning away from Aisleen and toward Siriel. “You doing okay?”

“Oh, yes.” Siriel sat up a little straighter. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more alive.”

The more stoic facade fell from Basileia’s face, giving way to a genuine smile. Exhilaration lit up her sapphire eyes.

“I haven’t, either.” A shadow passed over her face. “Not since before I became a lady-in-waiting to Her Grace.”

Siriel’s brown eyes widened. “You mean that you didn’t have fun with us?”

“Of course I did.” She smiled again, but the circles under her eyes were more prominent than they were seconds ago. Her eyes flicked towards Jacen and the space pirates. “But we can talk about this later.”

Siriel bit her lip, looking as if she wanted to say something—but she didn’t. Instead, she just folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them.

“Well, if I remember correctly, Castalia has the wand?” Aisleen offered out his hand to Kamlin.

She nodded and removed the wand from her jacket, placing it in Aisleen’s hand. For the first time, Jacen got a good look at the object sacred to the Ewoks. It was long, with a design similar to the hilt of a lightsaber, with three prongs coming off the end. There were leaf designs and roots curved in an intricate design all along the wood.

Jacen could sense the power emanating from the artifact. It wasn’t a power like the Force. It was a power similar to the green light, to the Witches of Dathomir.

“We’ll take good care of it, Prince,” Aisleen promised. “We’ve got a patron on Naboo who will pay us handsomely for retrieving this. They’ll put it to good use—and when we’re finished, it’ll go back to the Ewoks.”

“Where it belongs,” Jacen finished. “Thank you. They deserve that much.”

A curt nod of respect passed between the two young men.

“I don’t understand,” Yun finally said. “Why are you guys—the Amidalans, I mean—so intent on taking out the First Order? I mean, we’re not perfect, but things aren’t the same as they once were under our flag.”

“In many places, they aren’t.” Grainne took the wand from Aisleen and tucked it in one of her many hidden pockets. “The problem is, in too many worlds, they are the same.”

“In Deyer, they’re still facing the same oppression they were in the days of the first Empire.” Aisleen crossed his arms over his chest. “In worlds like mine, like Andowynne, many Imperial officials are still corrupt and sadistic.”

“We had no idea,” Jacen said. “I’d never heard of any of this.”

“Maybe you haven’t.” Aisleen raised an eyebrow. “Kylo Ren seems the type to shield his children from his mistakes. But we’ve tried to make our voices heard, peaceably at that. Only to get stamped back down under the heel of the First Order. At this point, the Emperor is either incompetent or complacent.”

“And it doesn’t matter which—a man like that cannot rule,” Grainne finished. “And the First Order cannot exist—the Empire cannot exist in any form! My father fled Jedha in the moments before the Empire tested their superweapon on it! My mother was driven from her homeworld for being non-human!”

She stopped herself, closing her eyes as everyone watched, suffocating in the silence.

When she opened her eyes, she looked down to the old senator’s style rebellion ring, the one that Jacen realized was used as a wedding ring for both pirates.

“I was only a small child when the war ended,” Grainne murmured, more to herself than to anyone standing around her. “I remember when we heard the news, a rebel cell that was hiding in some shady little hellhole. We wondered why the General had done this, why she would compromise with evil. We only knew later, that he was her son and that she had grown weak in her old age.”

She looked back up to Jacen, a cold fury and deep sorrow in her dark eyes.

“Tell me, Jacen Solo—do you know what you’re truly a prince of?”

Jacen had said he was prince of nothing only a day ago. But he knew that was no longer true—even if his title held no power.

“Of every evil thing Palpatine and Snoke and my father did. Of every wicked thing the House of Sharadasan did in the Consortium. I am heir to every sin of my bloodline.”

“That is why we must fight your father.” Aisleen and Grainne exchanged a look.

“We swore to fight evil when we found it, and we will help you with the cultists,” Aisleen promised. “But know that we won’t extend our generosity when the revolution comes.”

Jacen narrowed his eyes as he rose from the Captain’s seat. He could sense the ripple of fear, could see the flashing image in their mind’s eyes of his father standing in his place.

“I haven’t continued the cycle yet,” he said in a voice as cold as the snows of Hoth. “I am not my father. And I never will be.”

With that, he exited the cockpit, storming to anywhere, just anywhere at all within the corridors of the Thunder Wraith..

He only stopped in one of the lounges when he finally realized he was being followed. It was a small shift in the Force, a little invitation. He turned around to see Kamlin following him.

Her thoughts and feelings were usually obscured, as she seemed to naturally put up a cloak in the Force. But now they were swirling around her, painful and obvious in the wavelengths of the Force even as they didn’t show on her face. Not yet, anyway.

“You’re not your father. I know that, at least.”

He softened. “How are you holding up?”

She folded her arms over her chest, taking a defensive stance. “I’m fine. As well as I can be, I guess.”

“What you did was brave,” he said. “I—I didn’t know that your home was that bad.”

“It wasn’t,” she whispered, turning her head so her dark hair obscured her face.

“What?” Jacen blinked, unsure of what he heard.

“It wasn’t always.” She let out a half-choked sob. “I— My parents weren’t always like that, at least, I don’t think they were. A part of me wonders if the signs were there all along. But I didn’t think, even with how they sent me away after what happened—“

Her shoulders shook as she turned further away from Jacen.

“It’s complicated, isn’t it?” He was reaching for words in his brain, desperately just trying to find the right order, the right things that might make Kamlin feel better. “How we relate to our parents.”

“But it’s different, you don’t understand,” Kamlin whispered fiercely, finally turning back to him. “Your father does love you, and you have siblings that do, too, and your uncle and your friends—“

She inhaled sharply, gasping for breath.

“And I have no one and nothing! I have lost everything, my ship, my home, and my family!”

Jacen surprised even himself with what he did next. He wrapped his arms around her, letting him cry into his black jacket. He tried to send feelings of tranquility, of peace around her in the Force, even though he was never good with such subtle applications of its power.

Finally, she looked up at him with coffee-dark eyes when she finally stopped, a new light in them.

“Thanks, Jacen,” she mumbled. “You’re a great guy.”

As soon as she said those words with that look on her face, he was sitting on the temple on Stalstinek IV again, he was holding a girl with dark blonde curls instead of brown waves, he was under the stars, he was elated.

He stumbled back, letting go of her as if she had burst into flames in front of him.

“I can’t,” he managed.

Kamlin’s face went red as she turned away from him.

“I’m sorry—I wasn’t thinking.” She played with the hem of her jacket’s sleeve. “I forgot about her. I am so sorry.”

“I wish I could.” He hated himself for saying those words. “But I can’t do it to her. Even if she’s gone down a path I can’t follow.”

“You can’t spend your entire life chasing a shadow, Jacen.”

With that, Kamlin turned and left, leaving Jacen alone in the cold metal corridor with his thoughts. He groaned and slid down the wall of the corridor, before resting his head on his knees.

He didn’t know what he’d do, if Reza really was gone, lost to the dark side. He had to try to bring her back—but what if she didn’t want to come back? What then?

The options felt like the walls of the ship, feeling as if they grew smaller and smaller with every passing parsec towards Batuu.


	22. Galaxy’s Edge

It was when they walked through the doors of Oga’s Cantina that Jacen knew that something was wrong. He could feel it in the air—panic, fear, the exact sort of collective emotional darkness that hadn’t been felt since the last throes of the second Galactic Civil War.

Yun immediately reached for his datapad as Jacen looked around for the source.

“We need to move,” Grainne murmured, and she ushered everyone over to the same booth where they had met just one day before.

Jacen looked to Yun as they sat down—he could sense a sort of numbness from his friend.

“What’s wrong?” Jacen whispered. “What’s going on?”

Yun didn’t initially respond, instead pressing the button that activated his holo-projector.

Images of Vernes and the township of Horus Outpost came up, with smoking ruins and bodes strewn around, with cauterized wounds and missing limbs.

Kamlin’s eyes widened, her hands flew to her mouth. Siriel covered her eyes and turned away, while Basileia gasped dramatically. Jacen just felt numb except for the sinking feeling in his stomach, as he realized exactly what had happened.

The footage switched to a pretty Twi’lek holo-reporter.

“The township of Horus Outpost has been completely razed to the ground. The Imperial military has not found any survivors, or any possible perpetrators. Currently, there are no answers as to who might have done this.”

But Jacen knew.

Of course he did.

Who else could it be?

The Cult of Belos surely wouldn’t let the collaborators who failed live with their crimes.

“Why would they kill the whole town?” Kamlin whispered. “My parents were the ones who failed them— why would they do this?”

“A display of arms, a threat,” Aisleen listed off possibilities.

“Or just plain sadism,” Jacen finished. “You see that so often in these Sith cults. This is what the dark side is. Sure, you might start down a more well-intentioned road than this. But it always escalates to this point.”

“And that’s exactly why we don’t want Kylo Ren in charge of the galaxy,” Grainne added.

Yun turned off the holo-projector. “We can discuss the political implications of Force-sensitive monarchs on the way to wherever these guys are—speaking of which, you guys do have some idea of where they are, don’t you?”

Aisleen and Grainne exchanged a glance.

“We have a lead, a place where trackers stop working and things get really weird,” Aisleen explained as he leaned in. “There’s this moon made entirely out of crystal, it’s really deep into the Outer Rim.”

“The black,” Basileia realized aloud.

Aisleen nodded. “We’ve got the coordinates—we’ve stopped by that moon a few times before for smuggling purposes, to hide from Imperial cruisers. But we’ve never really poked around. It does have a breathable atmosphere to humans and near-humans, so we should be good there.”

“Then we need to go, now.” Jacen stood up. “There are people who need us, and I’m not going to let them down.”

“Neither will we,” Yun assured him, playing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll follow you to the end of the line.”

“That’s a rather weighty promise,” Aisleen murmured.

Grainne elbowed him in the ribs. “We dedicated ourselves to the pursuit of evil—and this is clearly our number-one priority. We’ll take you there, kid.”

With that, everyone hurried out of the bar, unaware that there was a shady pair of eyes watching them.

* * *

Once in the _Thunder Wraith,_ Jacen reluctantly left Grainne and Aisleen in charge of getting them to their destination. As for him, he used one of the lounges to send a transmission to his mother.

She picked up on the third ring, slightly out-of-breath and wearing the type of gown she used for Imperial events—she had been negotiating with the Amidalans just now, Jacen realized.

“Jacen, are you alright?” Rey glanced at something behind her. “I don’t have much time, I need to get back to your father, the negotiations are certainly not going the way we planned, and your father’s diplomacy skills still leave something to be desired.”

Jacen winced in agreement. “I’ll make this quick, then. The cultists razed Horus Outpost, on Vernes, after we took something that they wanted from the governor’s manor.”

Rey raised an eyebrow—she’d clearly read between the lines. “Why would you steal from one of our governors?”

“Look, it’s a long story, and we can talk about this later,” Jacen promised. “We have a lead on the cultists and we’re going to put an end to all of this now.”

“Wait, now?” Rey’s eyebrows shot up into the diadem around her forehead. “Jacen, no! Send me your coordinates now, and hold off the attack. You’ll need reinforcements if you want a chance at beating them. They have the Scepter of Ragnos, and they’ve got Reza—who knows what other rai facts and talents they have among them? If they were able to burn Horus Outpost down like that, they’re too dangerous for you, that girl, a Jedi, and a couple of Hapan noblewoman to take down on your own.”

“We found some more friends.” Jacen scratched his neck.

“I’d assume they’re not nearly enough, however.” Rey drew herself up to look like the Empress, the Queen Mother. “Prince Jacen, you’re to hold back on the attack until reinforcements come. That’s an order.”

Jacen hesitated—but his decision was already made. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, _Amilye_.”

He then ended the transmission as he heard her yell something about orders and obedience. It wasn’t important. He had a job to do, and a duty to the galaxy, and he would do it. Even if his mother didn’t believe in him.

He pulled out his Holo projector, and Reza’s face appeared again, smiling in a field of flowers outside of the Temple of the Winged Goddess. He’d forgotten some of her freckles, and he’d almost forgotten her exact smile. He traced a finger down the line of her face, the Jedi braid peeking out over her shoulder with the tumble of dark blonde ringlets.

“I’m going to find you.” He smiled—and yet it was tinged with sadness and fear. “I promised I’d help you, that I’d keep you safe. I made that promise in the Valley of the Sith—and I don’t intend to break it now.”

He heard a gasp and turned to see Kamlin standing there. He turned red and closed the projector, standing from where he had been sitting to do his transmissions.

“You did the best you could, you know.”

He dusted himself off. “We should get back to the cockpit, get an ETA on the arrival time.”

“Two more standard hours.” Kamlin pulled out a pazaak deck. “Thought I might teach you some pazaak, if you want to play?”

For a moment, Jacen opened his mouth to say no, to reject her. To go off and be moody and brooding. Then it hit him—this was exactly something that his father would do.

This wasn’t what he would do. This wasn’t who he wanted to be.

And standing there, he found himself reevaluating everything. Here, standing in front of him was a girl who was willing to travel to the end of the world to help him. And to help him with what?

To save a girl who likely didn’t want to be saved?

It had been a year, and Reza didn’t even try to find him again. She didn’t ty to communicate with him at all.

A part of him would always love her, of that he was certain. She held that place that only idealistic first love could in his heart.

But maybe it was time to let another into his heart, even as they drew so near to the truth.

This was a conundrum for after the battle. For now, he didn’t need to cast aside someone who he realized loved him, in her own way.

He smiled.

“I’d like that. Thank you.”


End file.
